An Excellent Example of Being Human
by ColoradoMFC
Summary: This is the continuation to Frost on Flowers. Reid and Neal want to get to the bottom of the coded mystery, but how far will they go to find the answers? What will Hotch and Peter have to say about it? Will stand alone, but better if read after FoF.
1. Chapter 1

An Excellent Example of Being Human

Neal hadn't been cooped up this long since he was in prison. And he still had a week to go. He was very much aware he was being punished, and secretly he knew he deserved it, but it didn't make his 2-week restriction any easier to take. At least after the first week Peter started letting him go to work with him again. Elizabeth had volunteered to work from home and be the young man's warden during the day, but five days into it, she had very nearly decided to set him free if only to retain her own sanity. His boundless energy coupled with boredom was enough to drive them both a little mad. When Peter returned home that night, El informed him she would have to return to work the following week because she had just secured a catering contract for a benefit concert at the Frick Museum. What she didn't know – and what the younger man decided she never needed to know – was that Neal had found his confiscated cell phone hidden in Peter's office. He made a couple of quick phone calls, pulled a few strings, and effectively ended both El's and his own days of tedium.

Peter suspected Neal had a hand in El's good fortune, but he couldn't prove it – yet. He appreciated El's willingness to 'babysit' Neal, but if he were truly honest, Peter realized he missed having the young conman around at work. Besides, now he could keep a closer eye on him.

Neal's desire to return to work was two-fold. Besides wanting to curb the monotony of the past week, he had been in brief contact with his new friend Spencer Reid. They were endeavoring to decipher an engraved code they found on an old wooden coin Reid's great-grandfather had hidden away. Reid had scanned the coin and emailed a copy to Neal. The conman knew it seemed familiar, but was having difficulty placing it.

For his relatively good behavior, on Thursday of the first week, Peter allowed him 20 minutes of internet access, but Neal was positive his keeper would check his browser history afterward. Because of this, after finding the email from Reid, he limited himself to browsing art supply sites. Hidden amongst the art sites was one with a chat room and a common haunt of one of Neal's many shady connections. She was able to confirm that the code on the coin was indeed a complex form of the Vigenere Cipher. Neal emailed his discovery to Reid, and then deleted it from his Sent Items folder. Neal knew that though limited by his own two-week restriction, Reid had some access to the government computers that could crack this code. He suspected though that Reid could probably crack the code on his own faster than any computer.

By Monday, Neal was itching to check his email again and hoped Peter hadn't disabled his access at the office. Entering the bullpen, Neal stopped at his desk, casually removed his jacket, hung it up, said good morning to Jones, rearranged a few items on his desk just to annoy him, flirted a bit with Dianna, and then made a beeline for his computer when Peter entered his office and closed the door. He was in luck. So far at least, his internet access was up and running.

XOXOXOXOXO

Reid would never admit this to anyone, but he really didn't mind being on restriction. He always stayed with Hotch during these times, and he found he enjoyed the company. Unless Morgan was forcing him to go out for the evening, the young doctor generally spent his evenings alone in his apartment. He was good at finding ways to occupy his active mind, but he often underestimated how enjoyable it was to eat a meal with a friend, or to discuss world events with another human. He could have done without the early bedtimes or the constant admonishments to slow down on his coffee intake, but otherwise these days were only vaguely like punishment for him.

Hotch knew all this, but it was good for the kid to have a little companionship now and then. It was good for Hotch too.

Because Hotch couldn't keep him home from work without raising suspicion, Reid was on desk duty instead. If the team went out on assignment, Reid stayed behind. Generally, Hotch tried to stay home as well, but when he couldn't Garcia was always more than happy to have the young man stay on her couch for a few days. Reid dreaded these times. It was bad enough that it was obvious to the entire team he was indeed being punished, but Garcia mothered him to death every time. The problem was that she was the absolute antithesis of his real mother, and he really had no idea how to handle all the attention. Hotch tried to encourage her to back off the young man a bit, but secretly he thought Reid could probably use a little motherly coddling now and then.

The young agent had spent as much free time as Hotch allowed (which wasn't much) secretly trying to break the Vigenere Cypher this past weekend. Of course he was aware of how it worked, but this one was far more complex than any he had ever encountered before. He had gotten nowhere with it and was starting to get frustrated. What he needed was the key. Traditionally, a key was provided, but there had been nothing but this coin hidden in the box. He had studied the box itself hoping a clue had been carved into the ornate design, but he had never found anything.

Come the second Monday of his restriction, Reid was happy to be back at work where he would have more access to information and more time to work on the code. He was able now to send off an email to Neal detailing his frustration with his slow progress. He also wanted to call his mother to see if she might be able to provide him with a little more background on his great-grandfather.

It wasn't until Tuesday that his team rolled out on a case in nearby Maryland. Hotch planned to return that night, so he was safe from Garcia's couch. Reid had been tasked with tracking all common occurrences of their unsub's activities in the surrounding area and report back to the team. This he did in less than 10 minutes, and since it would be another 2 hours before his team reached their destination, he put off calling anyone with the data.

Instead, he called his mother. "Hi Mom. How are you?" . . . "I'm fine, Mom." . . . "Yes, Ma'am, I'm still grounded." Agent Reid blushed a bit and wondered why he felt the need to tell his mother absolutely everything. "I know, Mom. I completely deserve it. No, Ma'am, I promise I'll never do anything that stupid again." He was getting frustrated. This conversation was not going the way he'd intended. "Look, Mom, I need to ask you a few questions about that box you sent me." . . . "Where did it come from?" . . . "What can you tell me about my great-grandfather Nesbit?"

The first question had produced a convoluted answer that Reid deduced was a result of his mother's medications and her inability to produce linear thought. She seemed to remember looking through her few possessions and stumbling upon it at the bottom of a box. She couldn't put together why she had then sent it to her son. Reid decided it probably didn't matter that much.

He was grateful that her distant memories were more intact than the recent ones. She passionately reiterated the most important aspects of what she knew about her grandfather's life. "He was an F.B.I. agent, Spencer. Just like you." The young man's jaw dropped. How could his mother never have told him before? But he didn't say anything afraid of derailing her story. She continued, "He worked out of New York, but went deep undercover in Nevada when the casinos were being established. He infiltrated the mob and became a trusted organizer for them. He prevented many innocent people from becoming victims while he was with them, but when the bosses started suspecting him, he sent a message to a colleague in New York. Help never came, and he was murdered, but not before he was set up. The Federal Government got word that he had absconded with the prized jewel collection of a visiting prince. They were convinced that he was murdered for his theft, though the jewels were never recovered. The Feds assumed he'd hidden them before his death."

Familiar with his mother's rantings, the young man asked, "Mom, are you absolutely certain that you remember the story correctly? It seems kind of . . . "

He was unable to finish his sentence as his mother frantically exclaimed, "Spencer, I know this story very, very well. My grandmother would repeat it constantly."

His phone gave the familiar click of someone else trying to call him, but his mother's words had struck a frightening note in Dr. Reid, so he ignored it, "Mom?" He wasn't quite sure how to continue, "Was . . . uhh . . . Did great-grandmother Nesbit . . . ummm . . . was she . . . sick?"

There was a strained silence on the other end of the line before his mother answered, "Do you mean, was she like me, Spencer?"

Reid pursed his lips together and knitted his brow, not entirely sure of what to say. His mother saved him from the awkwardness, "I'm afraid so." Bitterly, she said, "She was institutionalized for her own safety." Reid gulped, knowing this was directed at him. He knew he would never stop feeling guilty for not being able to help his mother more than he had. Dianna Reid knew she had just struck a dirty blow to her son. She tried to make it up to him with, "I love you, Spencer. I hope you'll be able to come see me sometime soon."

The young doctor jumped at the escape his mother had just offered him, "I-I will, Mom. Very soon. I promise." They hung up both aware it was a lie. Reid didn't have time to dwell on this however. Hotch had been the other person trying to contact him, so he quickly returned the call.

"Reid. You didn't answer when I called."

The young man knew he wasn't supposed to use the phone while on restriction without having a very good reason, and he didn't believe Hotch would consider his reasons good at all especially since the older man didn't even know about his side investigation, so he responded, "I'm sorry, Hotch. I was talking with my Mother."

Hotch softened immediately, "Ah, how is she?"

"She's fine. Thanks." Not wanting to get into the details, he pushed forward, "It seems there is a distinct pattern of common behavior in the Maryland area. The unsub likes sparsely populated areas, but all of the attacks have been within a quarter mile of a major highway."

Hotch could hear the tension in the young doctor's voice. "Good work, Reid. That narrows our search criteria quite a bit. I've asked Garcia to investigate a few other parameters. She could probably use your help with that."

"I'll go find her right now."

Before he could hang up, Hotch stopped him, "You should think about going to visit your mom sometime soon."

"Yeah, I'll think about it." Reid responded before he hung up.

Hotch knew he was simply being humored, but the kid really did need to get some things worked out with his mother. He decided not to push it for now, but would continue to encourage him after a few days.

Before running off to find Garcia, Reid sent a quick email to Neal.

XOXOXOXO

Peter was on a stake out all day Tuesday, and therefore, so was Neal. The younger man was bored out of his mind within the first hour, and Peter had to warn him several times to stay put. He wasn't about to let this trouble magnet out of his sight today. By the early afternoon, however, Peter had had enough. He called in for backup, and when they arrived, he gave them their instructions then began their drive back to the office.

When they were within a mile of the FBI building, Peter's phone rang. It was Elizabeth, "Hi Hon."

"Hi Honey. Hey, listen. I just got some news I think you should hear."

"Is everything alright?" Peter asked anxiously.

"Yeah. Everything's fine, but you may want to have a little talk with Neal after I fill you in."

Shooting a suspicious look at the younger man, he responded, "Oh really?" Neal, who had been listening closely, flashed him a look of innocent confusion. Peter sharply pulled into a small drive way and turned the car around, "We're on our way home now. Meet us there?" Neal looked slightly alarmed. "What did you do, Neal?" His only answer was a pair of wide, innocent blue eyes and a small shrug.


	2. Chapter 2

**A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed Ch. 1. I get so much inspiration from you all!**

**Because of my apparent inability to remember to save documents **_**before**_** I post them, this was not included at the beginning of the story, so here it is now instead . . .**

**This is a continuation of Frost on Flowers. Though this story will stand alone, you'll find yourself wondering what happened in the previous story, so you should probably read it first. I'll only warn you this one time: This story contains spanking of an adult (well, 2 adults actually, but only when they act like bratty children), thus the 'T' rating.**

**Don't own CM or WC, only wish I did.**

**Enjoy . . . **

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"Really Peter, I have no idea what's wrong." The two men were traversing the sidewalk toward Peter's home. "Are you certain Elizabeth sounded upset? Maybe she was concentrating on something important, or maybe she was actually upset with you. Did you do something to make her angry again, Peter? You know, you really should be more careful about what you say to her sometimes." The young man was grasping at straws, and he knew it. He was also rambling; a good sign he knew he was in trouble and didn't want to admit it.

Peter walked quietly beside him, listening to Neal's underlying messages, and wondering what in the world the young conman could have done to anger El. Approaching the front door, he stopped to look Neal in the eye. He only received a perplexed, innocent glance before the younger man broke eye contact. Sighing, he snatched Neal's hat off his head and handed it to him before leading him into the house. They got about 5 steps inside the living room when Peter pulled up short at the sight of his irritated wife.

Worried about what was to come, Neal wasn't paying much attention to Peter and ran directly into him. He was about to apologize when he too caught sight of Elizabeth, and froze.

She sturdily stood in front of the dining room table, arms crossed, lips pursed and eyes flashing. She gripped a large wooden spoon in her hand. Neal dearly hoped she had just been stirring a pot of something in the kitchen and wasn't planning some other use for the implement. When she hotly flipped her dark hair back, Peter paled slightly at the familiar warning signs of an oncoming tongue lashing. "Neal!" Peter released the breath he just realized he'd been holding. He turned slightly to find wide, startled blue eyes gazing at El. He noted with satisfaction that Neal was now the one not breathing. "You did this. You set up this job for me at the Frick." Neal thought perhaps she was only playing at being angry. He'd contracted this job for Elizabeth as a favor to her – so what if he benefited from it as well? "Wipe that smile off your face, young man, and have a seat." She pointed at the sofa.

Swallowing hard, Neal meekly did as he was told. "B-but Elizabeth, I –"

She cut him off with an angry flick of her upraised hand. Peter, who had been standing aside enjoying the show, slowly approached his wife. "Hun . . . ?" She didn't seem upset with him at the moment, so he stood in front of her and laid a supportive hand on her shoulder.

Speaking directly to her husband now, she told Peter, "I met Mr. Franklin today, the man in charge of this dinner at the Frick. He was talking about how much he owed Nick Halden for his constant ability to provide him with top-of-the-line services like mine. Imagine my surprise at hearing _his_ name." She side-stepped Peter and reaffirmed her confrontation with Neal, "When and how did you contact him, Neal?" He opened his mouth to explain, but snapped it shut again when Elizabeth finished with, "And don't you dare lie or minimize, or so help me, I'll turn you over my knee right now."

Neal looked to Peter for help, but received an unhelpful smirk instead. He was on his own. Quickly collecting himself, he started, "I was only . . . uhh . . . that is to say, I knew of this job, and . . . uhh . . . Well, Elizabeth, I was driving you crazy all last week, and I just thought –"

"You thought if El had something else to do, you could get a reprieve from your restriction." Peter sounded disappointed.

More than anything else, that tone in Peter's voice made the younger man feel the first real twinges of guilt.

Firmly, Elizabeth restated, "When and how, Neal? These are easy questions."

Elizabeth was proving to be much harder to redirect than Peter generally was. The younger man looked from her to Peter and back again before he gave a frustrated sigh and offered Elizabeth the answers she was demanding. "I found my phone in Peter's office last week." Seeing the increasing ire in the older man's face, he quickly pushed forward, "I only made a couple of calls. It took less than 5 minutes." Peter's frustration was not decreasing, but Neal couldn't stop himself from talking, "Peter, I'm sorry. I know. I wasn't supposed to use my phone, but I couldn't take another week of being confined like that." Neal abruptly stopped as a dark cloud passed over Peter's face. Feeling a bit panicky, he quickly thought about the last thing he had said.

A tense silence filled the room before Peter growled, "Come with me, Neal." Neal slowly stood to follow the order. Peter led him by the arm to the only open corner in the living room. Taking the young man's shoulders, Peter placed him in position facing the wall, "Use this time to think about why what you did was wrong." Neal half turned to try to explain (and hopefully to talk his way out of the corner), but Peter firmly put him back in position and gave him a hard smack on the butt, "Stay put. I tell you when it's okay to talk again." Not wanting to incur any more smacks, Neal complied. Satchmo, who had been waiting patiently for attention at Peter's feet now whined and nosed Neal's hand. Peter sent the dog away, "Come on, Satch. Go see El." Elizabeth absentmindedly scratched the dog's head as he leaned against her legs.

Peter then went to his wife and guided her into the kitchen where they could discuss what needed to happen next. Satchmo quietly waited for them to leave the room, then returned to sit beside Neal who surreptitiously pet the dog's ears.

XOXOXOXO

Tuesday night the case hadn't been cracked yet, but they were close. True to his word Hotch returned to the BAU offices that night, leaving the rest of the team in Maryland to handle the rest. He would return in the morning if need be. At 6:20 pm he walked into the bullpen to find Reid and Garcia happily finishing off the last of the carry out Chinese food. "You didn't save any for me?" Hotch uncharacteristically teased.

"Sorry boss. The Moo Shoo crew flew through the cashews." Garcia grinned at her rhyme. Hotch and Reid barely managed to keep from rolling their eyes.

Glancing at the young man, Hotch could see he had been subjected to this sort of thing all day and was worn out, "Ready to go, Reid?"

He was about to respond when Garcia continued, "Ah, high IQ gumshoe with a curfew."

Sighing, Reid simply shouldered his bag and walked toward the door.

Catching the look of "see what she puts me through?" as the young man passed, Hotch shot a glance at Garcia making sure the kind-hearted tech analyst hadn't seen it. She hadn't, but she could imagine. Slightly embarrassed, she said, "I'll just clean up here then." As Hotch turned to follow his charge out the door, she couldn't help herself, "Adieu!"

XOXOXOXO

Though Reid had been kept informed about their current case throughout the day, the short ride to Hotch's apartment was spent filling in any holes and discussing different possibilities regarding the unsub's behavior.

When they arrived at the apartment, Reid wanted nothing more than to hide away in his bedroom and continue his work on the perplexing code, but not wanting to raise any suspicion, he knew he would have to stick to their regular routine. He sat on the sofa reading another technical manual and sipping at the tea Hotch always insisted on making before bed. It was only 7:30, and Reid knew he had about 2 hours to kill before being sent to his room. He would be allowed another ½ hour to 'wind down' before Hotch insisted he shut his light out. This ½ hour was all the time Reid was provided to actually work on the frustrating code – not that Hotch would approve if he was aware of Reid's activities. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Hotch work through his mound of paper work.

Hotch felt more than saw the younger man's restlessness. Continuing his work, he waited patiently for Reid to bring up whatever was bothering him.

By 8:00 Reid had finally decided on a plan. "Hotch?" He began, getting the older man's attention, "I've been thinking about what you said about going to visit my mother. Do you think I can take next week off to go see her?"

Hotch tried not to show his amazement at this. Thinking it through, he probed further, "Are you certain you want to go for an entire week?" He was worried about this young man having so much exposure to his mother all at once. Without the support of his BAU family close at hand, this could be a disastrous decision.

Stumbling over the unexpected question, Reid struggled to continue his lie, "I'll be fine, Hotch. Mom would be disappointed if I couldn't spend a full week with her."

Hotch continued to stare at his youngest agent, trying to get a read on what he was really thinking. Reid did his best not to squirm under the imposing power of that gaze. Finally, Hotch responded, "If you're certain this is what you want, I'll approve the time off."

Reid took a deep breath, "Thanks, Hotch."

"But," the older man continued, "I expect you to call and check in a couple of times throughout the week." He knew this was an unorthodox request to make of an employee, but the young man would need more support than he realized. This demand would allow Reid to seek that support without feeling he was being an imposition.

Nodding his head in agreement, he responded, "Yes, sir." He wasn't thrilled about this directive though as it meant he would have to continue his lie on the phone with Hotch. Reid knew he was a terrible prevaricator, and the more often he was put into this situation, the more likely Hotch was to find out the truth. But, at least he was now free to go to New York and enlist Neal's help in investigating his great-grandfather's mystery.

Predictably, at 9:30 Hotch sent Reid to bed. He went with every intention of working on the code some more, but fell asleep almost as soon as he crawled under the covers.

At 10:00 Hotch cracked the young man's bedroom door open to check on him. Sound asleep. He smiled knowing the tea he had given Reid was doing its job in getting him to sleep more. The ever-present dark circles under his agent's eyes were nearly invisible now after several nights of ample rest. He sighed knowing that they would return after a week spent with his mother. Hotch clicked off the light, watching to make sure the nightlight turned itself on. Then he closed the door and went to his own bed.

XOXOXOXO

Neal had been standing in the lonely corner for nearly 20 minutes. He could hear the quiet mumblings of Peter and Elizabeth emanating from the kitchen, but he couldn't pick up on the words. He wondered what the new punishment might be. Probably another week's restriction. He sighed heavily at the thought of this and wondered how he would survive another seven days of such close supervision. When Satchmo eagerly climbed to his feet from laying by Neal's side, he knew one or the both of them had re-entered the living room. He tensed slightly waiting for the real punishment to be given.

"Neal, come here." It was Peter. The young man closed his eyes for a moment thanking the powers that be that it wasn't Elizabeth who would deliver the inevitable news. Peter was bad enough; he didn't think he could handle both of the Burkes punishing him. As he turned to face his accuser, he froze seeing Elizabeth standing beside her husband. The spoon at least was no longer present. Slowly, unsure of what was to happen next, he approached the couple.

Elizabeth had calmed down quite a bit in 20 minutes. She began, "Neal, I'm unhappy with your behavior. You deceived me in breaking your phone restriction, and you manipulated Mr. Franklin into hiring me. You're right. You were driving me crazy last week, and I should have put my foot down when your conduct got out of hand. Next time I will. For now though I don't appreciate you engineering this job for me to make your life easier. Understand?"

Neal understood now why Peter loved his wife so much, and also why he was a little bit afraid of her. She was strict, but Neal had to admit everything she said was fair. He guiltily nodded his head, and sincerely said, "I'm sorry for manipulating the situation, Elizabeth. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that." Peter warned, "This discussion is not over. You and I are going to finish this up in your room."

Neal's eyes went wide in shock, "What? But P-Peter, I said I was sorry!"

Taking the young man by the upper arm and guiding him toward the staircase, Peter said, "Uh-huh, and now we're going to make sure you remember just how sorry you are for a long time."

Neal looked back over his shoulder for help from Elizabeth. She returned his unspoken plea with a look that said, 'you had better learn a lesson from this'. When she turned to go to the kitchen, Neal knew his fate was sealed.

XOXOXOXO

Escorting Neal into the bedroom and shutting the door, Peter said, "You know the drill. Slacks and underwear off."

Neal retreated to the far side of the small room. "Come on, Peter. You're not really going to do this again, are you? I mean I get it about the first time. Agent Hotchner wanted you to spank me to keep me from going to prison. A-and breaking into that safety deposit box was a really bad idea. But all I did this time was make a quick phone call and get Elizabeth a job – which I notice she's keeping, by the way. I really think an apology is sufficient, don't you?" Peter's hands were on his hips and the dark cloud over his head had returned. The more Neal talked, the darker that cloud became. Neal honestly did not understand why the older man was as angry as he was, but he quit talking not wanting to make matters any worse than they already were.

"Are you finished?" Was Peter's sardonic reply.

Offering as innocent a look as he could muster, Neal merely nodded and waited for Peter to give his take on the situation.

"Good. Slacks and underwear off. I won't ask you again." Knowing he'd lost, Neal swallowed hard and complied as slowly as possible. Peter removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Then he removed the hidden implement from his back pocket and laid it on the bed. Neal froze in horror at the sight of the wicked looking paddle. "Oh that?" Peter replied simply, "Agent Hotchner sent this to you as a gift."

"He sent it to me – as a gift?" Neal was incredulous.

"Yep. In care of the Burkes." Peter nearly grinned when Neal's startled eyes flew to his. "That's right. Elizabeth knows about it and has every right to apply it as needed. You're lucky she didn't introduce you to it last week when you were causing her so much trouble. She's a very patient woman."

"You're – you're not really going to use that thing, are you?" Peter's eyebrow rose at the question. "Peter! You c-can't!" The other eyebrow lifted. The younger man studied his face for a few moments before realizing that he could and he would. Dread filled him, but he knew there was no escape. When Peter gave him a hard, poignant glare, Neal finished undressing and resignedly waited for his next orders.

Peter sat on the bed and patted his knee as an invitation to Neal to take his position. Keeping his eyes on the floor, Neal moved in beside his friend and let himself be guided into place. He recognized a strange feeling he had had the last time Peter disciplined him: security. Neal wondered why, in this position and about to be spanked, he would feel safe all of a sudden. This was of course mingled with feelings of trepidation and anxiety, but only because he knew he deserved what was coming. He realized then that it was Peter's presence that afforded him this feeling of wellbeing. He relaxed a tiny bit knowing he could trust Peter to do what was best.

Peter wasted no time. Quickly and efficiently he painted a stinging base coat on the young man's butt with the palm of his hand. Neal tried his very best not to struggle or cry out. He also tried to remember to breathe. Soon, however, he was letting out small cries of, "Ow! Peter, please! Ow! I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

This last cry made Peter pause. 'Whatever I did'? It was time for Peter to switch to the paddle now anyway. He held it steadily over his target and ordered, "Neal, tell me why you think you're being punished."

Trying to regain some composure though he knew this spanking was far from over, Neal took a few deep breaths before answering, "I used the phone when I wasn't supposed to."

"Correct." Peter snapped the paddle down on the younger man's butt twice. "What else?"

"I-I manipulated Mr. Franklin . . . "

Before he could qualify that with the 'favor' he had done Elizabeth, Peter gave him two more swats of the paddle. This time Neal cried out as the fire in his butt grew to what he felt was dangerous levels. Without mercy, Peter responded, "Right. What else?"

"I – uh – I got Elizabeth a job?" He didn't really think that was right, but he didn't know what Peter was fishing for now.

Peter smacked the paddle down hard directly across the young man's sit spot. "OWWWW! Peter! What? I'm sorry! Okay?"

"You want to give that one another shot?" Peter firmly asked.

Neal's immediate reaction was to say, "NO!" but he stopped himself knowing it would only earn him another hard swat. Instead, he tried, "I-I-" The honest truth was always the hardest to say out loud, especially when it involved hurting someone he truly admired, "I manipulated Elizabeth." He waited for the paddle to fall, but it didn't come.

Quietly, Peter asked, "How do you think that made her feel, Neal?"

Suddenly, the young man felt tears spring to his eyes. He hadn't thought before about how his actions might have negatively affected her. "Peter, I – I didn't think . . ." he sniffled quietly into the comforter.

"I know you didn't, Neal. Now you need to decide how you're going to make that up to her. A spanking isn't going to cover that one." Neal nodded his head as his breath caught in his throat. "First though, we have one more thing to go over. You said you did all this because you couldn't stand being confined like this anymore. Do I have to remind you of the alternative to this punishment?"

Neal frantically shook his head, "No. It's part of the stipulation Agent Hotchner set down to keep me out of prison."

"Exactly. This constant engineering of your surroundings to fit what you want is what gets you into trouble, young man. I can see now that I've allowed it to go on too long, and I'm going to start putting a stop to it now. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Peter. Chrystal."

"Good. And to make certain, I am going to finish up with a little preview of what you can expect if I find you manipulating people again." He lifted the paddle and covered Neal's butt with hard, efficient swats.

Neal cried out from the first to the last. Because Neal was completely unable to stop himself from moving his hips and bucking in an attempt to avoid the paddle, Peter wrapped his right leg over the younger man's legs and held on tightly to his waist with his left arm. Try as he might to get away, Neal was secure.

Neal was sobbing with all his heart by the time Peter was satisfied he had learned his lesson. When the spanking stopped, he stayed draped over the older man's knee, crying, "I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sorry." Over and over again until he was out of tears.

Peter waited patiently, rubbing gentle circles in the boy's back. When he quieted down enough to listen, Peter said, "It's okay now, Buddy. I forgive you."

The feeling of wellbeing returned to Neal full-force again. Yes, he was hurting inside and out, but he knew he was safe. He would still need to talk with Elizabeth and figure out what he could do to make it up to her, but he knew she and Peter were there for him no matter what.

**XOXOXOXO**

**Please let me know what you think so far. I don't hardly bite at all.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about the long delay in getting this chapter out. My classes are finally coming to an end in preparation for my impending internship, and life is getting a bit more hectic than usual. Hope it will calm down in a week or so, but it's quite possible to get worse before it gets better.**

**I know I've already said this, but thank you to everyone who has reviewed! You all are truly the inspiration for these stories!**

**Don't own CM or WC, only wish I did.**

**Enjoy . . . **

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Saturday afternoon Neal couldn't stop himself from bouncing around the house like an excited four-year-old. Tomorrow was his last day on this interminable restriction, today he was going to get out of the house and be able to repay Elizabeth for manipulating her, and yesterday he had gotten word from Reid that he was coming to New York next week to further investigate his great-grandfather's death and he wanted Neal's help in figuring it out. He knew Peter would be disappointed in him if he did help the young FBI agent with an unsanctioned investigation, but what Peter didn't know wouldn't hurt either one of them.

He had gotten up at dawn and made breakfast for them all. After cleaning up he started folding the napkins Elizabeth had delivered to the house for tonight's party at the Frick. When he was half-way through, Elizabeth found him and awkwardly broke it to the young man that his fold pattern was all wrong for this venue. She showed him the correct fold and he started all over again. Before he barely started though, he got distracted by Elizabeth's controlled frustration during a phone conversation to one of her suppliers. They would not be able to deliver the chocolate fountains in time for the guests' arrival. Neal offered to call one of his contacts.

"You have a chocolate fountain connection?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

Without missing a beat, he answered, "Two, actually."

As tempted as she was to take the easy solution Neal was offering, she had never had a single issue with this supplier in the past. She hesitated to send Neal the message that messing up once was grounds for dismissal. "Thank you, Neal, but I'm sure Joel is simply being cautious. It'll be tight, but he'll get the fountains there in time. He always has in the past."

Disappointed in not being able to offer his help with the fountains, Neal went back to folding the napkins. As soon as this was finished, he joined Elizabeth at the table as she reviewed the final plans and reworked a few of the details. He hadn't realized he was tapping his fingers in an annoyingly distracting rhythm until Elizabeth heavily sighed.

Now he was walking Satchmo around the block after a plea from Elizabeth to get out from under foot and let her work on the final touches for tonight. Peter made himself scarce watching baseball on the basement television, so there wasn't much else for Neal to do to burn off his excess energy at the moment.

XOXOXOXO

Saturday found Reid back at his desk as the rest of the BAU was finishing up a case. He was supposed to be with Garcia, but his incessant questions and speculations had finally driven her crazy. She had banished him back to the bullpen.

This suited Reid perfectly. There was very little the team needed him for at this point anyway, so he had a few hours to research a possible key word for the cypher. There were just so many possibilities. Reid sighed looking at his already long list of potential keys.

XOXOXOXO

That night Neal donned his best suit and joined Elizabeth at the Frick. He was tasked with keeping an eye on the floor and ensuring the drinks were flowing and the guests were enjoying themselves. This was a job particularly suited to his talents, and it allowed Elizabeth a greater amount of freedom to enjoy the evening as well. It made Neal happy to see her relax and have some fun.

By the end of the evening Mr. Franklin was reporting higher than expected donations to his charity, with promises of far more to come. He smiled and shook Elizabeth's hand. Several local benefactors had also sot out Elizabeth and asked for her contact information.

Neal felt this evening was a success, but he wanted to make sure. As the crowd began to thin out, he casually stood beside Elizabeth and teased, "Sorry this party didn't really turn out."

Elizabeth returned his grin with one of her own. Patting him on the arm, she said, "You did a good job tonight, Neal."

"So . . . ?" The young man fished.

Grinning even broader, she answered, "So, debt repaid."

He flashed her his best smile. Looking back over the diminishing crowd, one thing still bothered him, "Elizabeth? If you were so angry about the way you got this job, why did you keep it?"

She was surprised by this question and turned to face the young man. The answer seemed obvious to her, but the fact that Neal was confused by it spoke to a gaping hole in his ethical schema. She placed a gentle hand on each of his arms to make sure she had his entire attention, "Because, Neal, I signed a contract with Mr. Franklin. It wasn't his fault that he was swayed into hiring me. And for your information, I did inform him of your duplicity and gave him the option of breaking the contract, but he turned me down."

Neal slowly nodded his head in understanding. Suddenly, something else occurred to him, and he lifted wide, questioning eyes to the woman's face. But it was Mr. Franklin who answered his unasked question. Approaching from behind, he clapped a hand down on Neal's shoulder. The young man swung around and swallowed hard. Mr. Franklin's eyes were twinkling as he said, "So, Mr. 'Halden'," he winked at Neal, "It seems I've gained two new acquaintances through you. I look forward to learning more about Neal Cafrey someday."

XOXOXOXO

Sunday afternoon Hotch dropped Reid off at his apartment to pack while he ran a few of his own errands. The younger man packed lightly, and spent the remainder of his time alone riffling through his family photo album. His mother had given him the album along with the odd watch. The pictures were mostly of him and his mother, but a few were of his grandparents and great aunts and uncles. All were family from his mother's side. She had rarely spoken about them, even when she gave him the album. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he felt as though they might hold something important.

Reid sat in his lone chair flipping through the pages. He soon became particularly engrossed in a set of photos of his grandfather, the photo album splayed open on his lap. There was something odd here. What was it? He sensed more than saw a pattern, one he had never noticed before. Though all of the pictures of his grandfather were taken in different places, something was similar in each. But what? His nose was nearly touching the book now. He had looked at these photos many times in the past, but he had never had this feeling before.

"Spencer?"

The startled young man jerked up and slammed the book shut. He blushed at his extreme overreaction.

"I'm sorry," Hotch said placing a comforting hand on Reid's shoulder, "I knocked, but you didn't answer so I let myself in." Nodding toward the album, he asked, "What's this?"

"Oh, this? It's just an old family album. I – uh – I thought Mom might – uh – like to see it again." He quickly jammed the book into his messenger bag.

He was moving far too nervously trying to get it out of Hotch's view. The older man was suspicious, but what damage could a family photo album do? Still, he wanted to get a better look at those pictures if he could. "Are you all packed?"

"Yeah – umm – my bag's there by the door." He stepped over to it and opened the door waiting for Hotch to take the lead.

XOXOXOXO

By 8:00 that evening Hotch and Reid were settled into their regular routine: Hotch studying case files and trying to get ahead on some of the endless paperwork, and Reid reading yet another technical manual and occasionally mentioning a point of interest. The younger man was restless, but he hoped Hotch read this as excitement over his alleged trip to Las Vegas tomorrow morning.

Hotch allowed his charge to fidget only a few minutes before he brewed Reid a large mug of tea, placed it on a coaster in front of him, resumed his perch in his favorite chair, and considered the young man carefully before he began, "Everything okay?"

Reid raised his eyebrows before glancing up from his manual. He tried to seem as casual as possible. "Yeah, everything's fine." Unable to hold the older man's eye through his lie, he turned his attention to the hot mug of tea.

Hotch watched the young man try to avoid his emotions. "Spencer," He waited for eye contact before continuing, "How do you feel about the last two weeks?"

The question was not unexpected. Hotch always processed his restrictions with him on the last night, "Like I learned my lesson, and I'm ready to go home." Reid offered a light-hearted grin to lighten the mood.

Hotch expected this answer as it never changed. This time however, he pushed a little further, "You're not going home tomorrow. You're going to see your mom – for a week." He didn't miss Reid's squirm at this.

The young man wanted to tell Hotch the truth, but he would never allow Reid to investigate this 'case' on his own. If this became a BAU issue, he was afraid Agent Milner would get wind of it and try to take over. No, for now he had to keep it a secret, even from Hotch. Taking a stalling sip of his tea, Reid considered what it was Hotch needed to hear right now. He set the mug down and said, "I'll be fine, Hotch. If things get tense, I promise I'll call you."

Hotch studied the young man. He was obviously hiding something, but as long as Reid kept in touch, he could at least keep tabs on him. Hotch admonished, "You'll check in at least twice next week no matter what."

With wide, innocent eyes, Reid nodded his head, "Yes, sir."

"And I expect to be able to contact you if I need to as well."

This stipulation might be inconvenient. Thinking quickly, Reid said, "The hospital doesn't really – uhh – they don't really like to have cell phones going off all the time."

The hard, immutable look he got from Hotch told him everything he needed to know, but the older man continued anyway, "I'm sure they'll make an exception for you. Put your phone on vibrate when you're there and you won't disturb anyone." Disrupting the coming argument, he finished with, "this is nonnegotiable, young man."

Reid quickly nodded his head in acknowledgement. He would simply have to work around the directive.

XOXOXOXO

The flight to New York was uneventful. Reid had lunch at the airport, and then found a cab and went directly to Neal's apartment. His landlady led Reid upstairs and offered him a cup of the best coffee he had ever had. As uncomfortable as the young man generally was around new people, June made him feel completely at home. She stayed and chatted with him while they waited for Neal to arrive home from Peter's. June never even seemed bored when Reid started spouting statistics and technical facts about the Empire State Building.

June found this young man amusing, and even charming in his own fashion, but she was relieved when Neal finally came home. She had missed him while he was away these two weeks. It would be nice to have him back roaming her halls.

They heard Neal talking with someone as he entered. June rose from her seat on the veranda and walked inside. Reid began to follow, but when he heard Peter's voice answer Neal's, he suddenly fell back and hid himself in the shadows. June's keen eye saw everything, and never being one to rat out a con, especially to an FBI agent, she smoothly approached the two men giving no indication of the hidden visitor. With open arms, she greeted, "Neal. It is so good to have you back." After giving the young man a hardy hug, she turned to Peter. With a wink, she asked, "did our errant young man behave himself, Peter?" Ignoring the derisive yet good-hearted snort she received from the older man, she continued, "There're coffee, pastries and a little welcome home gift for you on the veranda, Neal. I'll let you get settled back in." The intonation in her voice made it clear that she expected Peter to clear out and allow Neal to relax.

Offering the older woman his most favorable smile, Neal sincerely said, "Thank you, June. It's good to be home again."

Peter got the hint. He handed Neal his duffle bag, clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Behave yourself. I'll pick you up in the morning for work." With that, he walked out and let Neal close the door behind him.

Turning to take in his apartment, Neal drew a deep breath and enjoyed the feeling of his heightened freedom. Dropping his bags, he made his way to the veranda. He froze when he saw the spread June had left for him. Something was wrong. Looking closer he realized that the two mugs of coffee were only partially full, and they were cold. The plates that should have been clean were covered with crumbs. Someone else was here. Slowly scanning the area, Neal's eyes hit on an unexpected glint in a dark corner. As he stared, the shadow began to move. He braced himself for a fight, but soon recognized the long, lanky out-line of Spencer Reid.

Letting out his held breath, Neal huskily admitted, "You scared the crap outta me, man!"

Reid looked a bit abashed, "Sorry. I didn't know Agent Burke would be with you."

Neal looked back at his door, "Yeah, he's gone now though." Returning his attention to Reid, his eyes twinkled as he said, "Where do we start?"

XOXOXOXO

Neal pushed back from the table rubbing his tired eyes. Reid, seemingly oblivious to the late hour, continued to hunch over the paper he had been scribbling ideas on all night. Both men were frustrated at the slow progress. A couple of times they had thought Reid might have stumbled on the key word that would help them break the code, but both times had proved a dead end. Neal was about to suggest they call it a night and they could try again tomorrow, when an old book binding under all the papers caught his attention, "What's this?"

Reid looked up as Neal disturbed the scattered papers to pull the book out, "It's just an old family photo album. I thought there might be a clue in some of the pictures, but I'm not so sure now."

Neal casually flipped through the pictures. He smiled at one of a young boy laughing as a pretty blonde woman pushed him on a swing. Studying it closer, he said, "That's you!"

Almost disinterestedly, Reid glanced at it and muttered, "Yeah. Me and my mom." And he returned his attention to the papers again.

Neal glanced up at the younger man, but then shrugged off the neutral response. He went back to flipping through the pages. A series of old pictures caught his attention. Some were faded nearly to obliteration; others were evidently blurry when they had been taken. It was difficult to make out much detail. All were group shots, but they all had only one person in common. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing at the tall, distinguished gentleman.

Reid's response was a bit more animated this time, "That's my great-grandfather Nesbit – the one who owned this watch. See, you can even see it in a few of the pictures." He pointed at a couple of the clearer pictures.

Neal squinted closer at the pictures Reid indicated. Indeed, he could just make out the watch. It seemed his great-grandfather liked to show off that watch a great deal. He was holding it up in not just these two pictures. When Neal pulled out a magnifying glass, he found that the man was holding the watch up and open in them all. This alone seemed odd, but if he was Reid's great-grandfather, that might account for a slightly unorthodox personality trait such as this. What was particularly strange was that the man never seemed to be looking at the watch.

Suddenly, Neal grabbed for the unusual pocket watch sitting on the table in front of Reid. The younger man was started by the abrupt movement, and stared at Neal as he studied the watch, and then the pictures, and then back to the watch again. Neal pushed the tiny lever that allowed the outside cover to pop open and reveal the watch face inside. He held it and the pictures up together, and then slowly turned the watch upside down. Excitedly, he said, "Look at this Reid!" The younger man jumped up from his chair to join Neal on the other side of the table. "In each of these pictures, your great-grandfather is holding the watch up, open and up-side-down. I think he is trying to tell us something!"

Reid only gapped. He couldn't believe this detail had skipped his keen attention. Perhaps he was simply too close to the situation.

"And look at this!" Neal enthusiastically continued, "Why is he looking away from the camera in each of these pictures? See? In this one he's looking at the mirror over a fireplace!" Pointing to another picture, "and here he seems to be looking more at the side of this car!" Moving to yet another picture, "Look at this one! He's staring into the window of that store!"

Now it was Reid's turn for an unexpected move. He snatched the watch out of Neal's hand and jogged into the bathroom with it. Curious, Neal followed.

The older man found Reid looking very much like his great-grandfather. The watch was held up, open and up-side-down, and Reid was staring sideways into the mirror. Furrowing his brow, the younger man leaned in closer, bringing the watch closer and closer to the mirror. There, plain as day, imbedded in what he had thought were merely abrasions on the aged surface of the watch interior were the words, "flamingo family".

Neal, leaning in, saw the words too. He looked at Reid and could almost envision the wheels turning in his head. He was about to ask what the younger man was coming up with when Reid dashed back to the table and frantically began writing. Neal, following closely on his heels, looked over the young man's shoulder. He watched as Reid scribbled out the letters "phoenicopteridae".

In a high-pitch, excited note, Reid squawked out, "That's it! It has to be!"

"Wait! What? It has to be what?" Neal was completely lost. How did Reid just go from an ugly pink lawn ornament to a long string of random letters?

"Phoenicopteridae! It's the family name for flamingos. This has to be the key word!" He sat, and using this new word as his key, began quickly translating the long string of letters from his great-grandfather's coin. First he copied the letters from the coin on a new sheet of paper:

Then, with a little help from Neal, wrote out the hidden missive. Stunned at the revealed message, they stared at each other. Slowly, as the pieces began to fall into place, they smiled knowingly at each other.

Reid shook his head, confused, "But he's too young for this to make sense."

Neal was about to theorize when there was a sharp knocking at the door. They both jumped. Reid's immediate thought was that Hotch had found out he had lied and had come to find him. Quickly, he dismissed this as preposterous, but looked to Neal for answers as he carelessly began pulling the scattered papers together in an attempt to hide them.

Neal looked just as concerned, if not more so. It was far more likely that Peter would be at his door. But at this hour? Probably not. Cautiously, he called out, "Who is it?"

A soft, feminine voice replied, "It's me, Neal. May I come in?"

Both young men sighed in relief. Neal opened the door to let June enter.

She looked disapprovingly, yet good-naturedly, at them, "You're up late. Not planning a big heist, I hope."

Startled, Reid answered, "N-no, ma'am. We were just visiting and lost track of the time."

Glancing at Neal and the innocent smile he graced her with, she skeptically answered, "Uh-huh. You two watch yourselves. I don't want Peter taking you away from me again, Neal."

In as comforting a tone as he could muster, Neal said, "We're not doing anything wrong. Besides, he'll never even know about this one, June."

She gave them both her best scolding glare, but couldn't hold it for long. She broke into a gracious smile and turned to Reid. "I thought you might like to take one of the guest bedrooms while you're here. No sense in sleeping on Neal's couch when I have all this space."

Returning her smile, Reid answered, "Thank you, ma'am. I'd like that."

"Good. You can take the room at the back of the second floor. It has the best view." Winking at Neal, she added, "and it's the least likely place for Peter to find you when he comes to pick up Neal in the morning."

Glancing at the clock, Neal groaned. He had forgotten about having to be up and ready in the morning. He thought about calling Peter and playing sick, but he didn't want to draw any undue attention to his activities. He promised Reid he would try to duck out of work as early as possible tomorrow, but he was on his own until then.

June then escorted Reid to his temporary living quarters and filled him in on what time Peter generally showed up. He would have to stay in the room until Peter left, but June invited him to have coffee with her after that. He brightly accepted the offer and bid her goodnight. He would make plans to visit the local FBI office tomorrow. There were some old files he needed to find.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

**Yes, I know, I'm a bad, bad person. But I thought a few sleuths might want to have the chance at figuring out the message on their own first. If not, don't worry, I'll supply it in the next chapter. Or maybe someone will leave it in a review. That would be okay too.**

**Hope you enjoyed! Would love to hear what you thought.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A big thank you to Maia2 who Betaed (is that a word?) this for me, and also to all those who reviewed the last chapter. You're all awesome, and I really appreciate you! **

**Don't own CM or WC, only wish I did.**

**Now, on with the story . . . **

**XOXOXOXO**

At 7:30 am Peter rapped loudly at Neal's door. Getting no answer, he let himself in expecting to find Neal lounging on the veranda sipping gourmet coffee and nibbling a croissant. Instead, he heard the young man's shower running. Raising an eyebrow, Peter glanced suspiciously around the apartment. Neal only ever ran this late when he had been up late and up to no good the night before. Very little was out of place, but two of his dining table chairs were pushed out slightly from the table. So, Peter thought, he had a guest last night. Not that unusual for the affable young man. But then his sharp eye took in the entire scene again. Neal's typical obsessive tidiness was about to prove his undoing.

Not realizing Peter had let himself in, Neal jogged out of his bedroom on his way to the veranda. His hair was still wet, but he wanted Peter to find him sitting out there like any other day. He pulled up short realizing he was too late. Flashing his best smile, he casually said, "Peter. Hey."

Peter wondered why the young man continued to try that smile on him. It was the biggest giveaway yet that he had been up to no good, "Hey, yourself. You're late."

Neal paused only momentarily to think of something, and then he said, "Yeah, I know." He released a weak, pathetic cough into the back of his hand. Peter's gaze hardened at the obvious sham, but Neal pressed on anyway, "I – I'm not feeling all that well. Must've slept in. I'm almost ready though." He quickly turned to escape back into his bedroom.

"Neal . . . " The word was uttered quietly, but the warning was clear.

The young man turned back to face his handler. He was caught off guard by the subtle movement of Peter replacing the two crooked chairs to their rightful places under the table. When the older man slowly and deliberately replaced the decorative tray to the middle of the table, Neal's face drained of color. Seeing Peter bend to pick up the tiny scraps of paper from the floor, Neal swallowed and tried very hard not to squirm.

Peter made a great show of studying the paper bits, and then apparently unable to see them well enough, he picked up the stray magnifying glass, glanced at the blank pieces in his hand through it, and finally gave Neal the inevitable questioning look.

At a rare loss for words, Neal simply stared back at Peter with what he hoped were innocent eyes.

Taking note of the shifting gaze and slight rocking from one foot to the other, Peter sighed. He had hoped Neal might decide to do the right thing this time and confess. He could wait if he had to, but the disappointment in his voice was obvious, "Go finish getting ready, Neal."

Peter had given him a chance, and he had let him down. Neal felt terrible, but he didn't want to stall Reid in his quest for the truth either. If Peter knew the truth, he would call Agent Hotchner. No, he would hold on to his secret a little longer, but that didn't make him feel any better. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of Peter's order and slowly returned to his bedroom to finish dressing for the day.

XOXOXOXO

From the darkened depths of his temporary bedroom, through a slightly cracked door, Reid was able to see when Neal followed Peter down the stairs and out the front door on their way to work. He hadn't forgotten about his coffee date with June, but first he needed to make a pre-emptive call to Hotch. If he let him know now that things were going well, maybe he could be free of disruptions (and lies) for the rest of the day.

"Hi Hotch." He tried to sound relaxed and confident.

Hotch heard the slight tremor in the younger man's voice. "Everything okay, Spencer?"

Reid's guilt mechanism responded strongly to Hotch's use of his given name. He swallowed hard before continuing on. "Yeah, Hotch. Everything's fine. M-mom says hi." Quickly licking his dry lips, he said, "If Mom's up to it, we're going to the Hoover Dam Museum today."

This did not sound like something Hotch would ever find interesting, but he had to admit that Reid and his intellectual mother would probably find this to be an enjoyable afternoon, "That sounds very – uh – educational. Have fun Spencer, and remember you can call any time you feel like it."

Dropping his eyes and feeling extremely guilty, he responded, "Thanks, Hotch. I will."

Again Hotch became concerned when he heard the drop in the young man's tone, but he decided now was not the time to press. Instead, he said, "Strauss is waiting for me in her office, so I'll talk with you soon," and he hung up.

XOXOXOXO

It turned out that Strauss needed Hotch to fly to a small, maximum security prison outside of Merced, California. She wanted him to interview a serial killer who was pushing to be transferred into a mental health facility. The state didn't believe this was a good idea, and they were requesting the help of the BAU to prove them correct.

Hotch checked in with his team and found them about to start prepping for what sounded like a relatively complicated case in Georgia. He patiently sat through the briefing, and then let everyone know that he would not be joining them for the first day of the investigation, but would return the following day. He worried about them being two men down, but also knew he could trust his team to take care of business when he wasn't around.

A plan was made for Hotch to fly down with the team, and then he could take the jet to California for the day. It was the fastest way for him to get back in time to help the team.

XOXOXOXO

From his office Peter watched Neal slog through the files on his desk. Admittedly, this wasn't the kid's favorite activity, but his head kept dropping nearly to the desk before he would catch himself. Even the coffee he continually poured down his throat didn't seem to be helping at all. Finally, at 3:30 he sent Neal home with a stern warning to stay out of trouble and to get to bed early tonight.

Neal gave Peter a solemn nod, dragged on his coat, put on his hat and slowly made his way to the elevators. He sent a quick text to Reid that he was on his way home, and then made his way to the subway.

XOXOXOXO

Reid spent the entirety of the day in the basement of the FBI building. He didn't bother to let Neal know he was there, afraid Agent Burke might find out. He requested the microfiche films that contained his great-grandfather's personnel file. Scanning it quickly, he focused on any new information and found exactly what he expected to find: His partner before taking the undercover assignment in Las Vegas.

Removing the slip of paper with the decoded message from his pocket, he glanced at it: "Siegel suspicious. Send Milner in as cover." Indeed, Agent Milner had been his great-grandfather's partner while he was assigned to the New York office. The Agent Milner who had taken such an interest in the contents of Reid's safety deposit box was far too young to be the same person, but it was too much of a coincidence for Reid to pass up.

Next, he requested his great-grandfather's partner's file on microfiche. He found out Agent Milner had been sent to Las Vegas when the New York office became concerned by Agent Nesbit's lack of communication. So, despite never receiving the message, they had sent in what they thought was help. He reported back that Reid's great-grandfather had allied himself with Bugsy Siegel and had helped him swindle a visiting prince out of his crown jewels. Reid rolled his eyes not only because he knew this report to be untrue, but because he knew how much delight Neal would take in this story even knowing it was a lie.

Scrolling down, he found an old black and white picture of the allegedly unrecovered jewels along with a short description. He requested a hard copy of this page, thanked the attendant and headed back to June's house.

There was one more file he needed to see, but because it was still active, he couldn't access it without raising suspicion. He would have to find another way.

XOXOXOXO

As it was only 4:30 Reid didn't expect Neal to be home yet. He let himself into the apartment to find Neal reading on his couch.

"Hey Reid. How was the sleuthing?"

Helping himself to a cup of coffee from the fresh pot, Reid filled Neal in on what he'd found. "The only problem now," he finished, "is that I still need to see the current Agent Milner's file to make sure there really is a connection."

"I think I might be able to help with that tomorrow," Neal said thinking he might be able to con Jones or Dianna into helping out.

"If you can, that would be great." Removing the picture of the gems from his messenger bag, he laid it on the coffee table in front of Neal, "Here're the jewels that my great-grandfather was accused of taking."

Neal leaned in, taking great interest in the picture. When he picked it up to get a closer look, Reid asked, "What?"

Neal read, "a pearl necklace with a sapphire inlay; a gold ring with amethyst inset rimmed with diamonds; a silver filigree broach with diamond inlay –" Looking up at Reid, he said, "I think I've seen this collection before. At the Met."

Reid was shocked, "What? Are you sure?" It hadn't even occurred to him that the collection might still be intact and available for public viewing. From everything his mother had said no one knew where they had disappeared to.

"No, man. I'm not sure, but these look really familiar."

"The museum's still open, right?" Reid was so excited he was on his feet and ready to run out the door, "Well, let's go."

Sadly, Neal shrugged and then lifted his pant leg to remind Reid of his electronic leash, "I can't. It's out of my 2-mile radius."

Reid was confused, "Two miles? But you go outside of that everyday just going to work."

"I'm only allowed because Peter's with me." He was about to suggest Reid go alone, when something occurred to him, "If you can wait until tomorrow, I might be able to meet you there. Peter sent me home early today because I was falling asleep at my desk. I'm fairly certain he didn't tell the U.S. Marshalls that I was on the loose until later. I'll just make him think I'm sick tomorrow. It should be easy after today. Then I'll just meet you there."

Reid was worried about this plan, "But if he finds out, won't you get in a lot of trouble?"

Neal only grinned. He was certain enough that he wouldn't get caught, and even if he did, he could probably talk his way out of it.

XOXOXOXO

Neal was up and ready to go by the time Peter came to get him the next morning. He made a point of not taking too much care with his appearance to help the illusion that he was ill. Once he got to his desk he sat quietly waiting for Jones to get his coffee and get settled in. He also had to wait for Peter to go downstairs for an early meeting. He waited 10 minutes more before calling himself on his desk phone and faking a conversation. After tapping a few keys in frustration, he called over to Jones. Pointing at the phone at his ear, he said, "Hey Jones. Peter needs some info., and my computer's frozen again. Can you look it up?" Talking back into the phone, he said, "Yeah, Peter, yeah I'll get that down to you in a couple minutes. Just hold on." He hung up and walked over to Jones' desk. "He wants to see the personnel file for a Robert Milner out of the Washington, D.C. office."

Crinkling his brow, Jones asked, "Why does he want to see a file on one of our own guys?"

"Got me." Neal responded, "but he wants it now."

Jones obediently printed it out, Neal grabbed it off the printer and made a great show of running them down to Peter. Once alone on the elevator, he looked over the pages. He thought, "Reid's going to find this very interesting." He folded the papers and slipped them into his jacket pocket.

Once back at his desk, Neal had to wait until Peter returned to pull his 'too sick to work' act. He rested his head on his hand to help the illusion along until then.

XOXOXOXO

In Washington D.C. an alarm was flashing on Agent Milner's computer. He had managed to get his personnel file flagged so that every time someone accessed it, he would know about it. He didn't recognize the name of the person who was checking him out, but upon further inspection he found out that Clinton Jones worked under Peter Burke. Agent Burke had close enough ties to Agent Reid to distress him.

Immediately, he went into action. He bought a plane ticket to New York leaving in an hour, and then called his boss and told him he needed to leave town on a family emergency for a few days.

XOXOXOXO

Hotch had finished his investigation and found the serial killer beyond any kind of psychological help. He advised the man not be released from the high security prison.

Boarding the jet early the next morning, he asked the pilot to re-rout the flight. He wanted to see for himself how Reid was fairing with his mother. Las Vegas was on the way, and the stopover would only take about an hour. While in flight, he called the local F.B.I. office and requested a vehicle be made available for him.

Once on the ground, he tried to reach Reid's cell. It was early, but he was still surprised the kid didn't answer. He drove directly from the airport to the hospital where Reid's mother lived. Approaching the front desk, he asked for Dr. Spencer Reid. It was a small hospital, and though he didn't visit often, most of the staff knew the young genius. So, it was concerning when the young woman responded with a blank stare. "I'm sorry, Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid hasn't been here in months."

"Are you certain?" He simply could not believe that Reid wasn't here. He had just spoken to him from here yesterday.

"Absolutely certain." She turned the log for him to see, "all guests are required to check in, and as you can see, his name isn't here."

Still disbelieving, he asked, "May I speak with Mrs. Reid perhaps?"

"Certainly. Let me call an attendant to take you to her."

On his way to her room, Hotch ran into her doctor. In passing he asked the older man about Spencer. Again he received a blank stare. Now he was becoming truly nervous about what was going on here.

Reaching her room, the attendant opened the door and said, "Dianna? You have a guest."

Luckily for Hotch, today was a particularly lucid day for her, "Oh, Agent Hotchner! To what do I owe the honor?"

"Mrs. Reid." He greeted, shaking her proffered hand, "I was hoping to see your son, but I'm told he hasn't been here to see you?"

XOXOXOXO

Reid spent the morning chatting with June. He was supposed to meet Neal at the Met at 10am, but had received a text telling him to hold off for an hour as he was having trouble getting away. The young man hoped he wouldn't have to search that entire museum by himself, but if he had to, he would.

Sipping coffee with June on the veranda, Reid's phone rang. He looked at the display. Hotch was calling again. He had blown him off the first time, but he didn't dare do it again. Steeling himself for another session of obfuscation, he walked back into the apartment to field the call. He smiled and answered, "Hotch!"

"Spencer." Hotch's voice was dangerous. Reid gulped at the sound. "How're things with your mother?"

Reid got the distinct impression his cover was blown, but until he knew for sure, he was going to keep up the charade. "Everything's f-fine, Hotch. H-how are things at home?" He cringed at the fear he heard in his own voice.

"Things are good here. Someone wants to say hi. Hang on."

There was a brief pause before the young man heard, "Spencer? What are you up to?"

Heart racing and eyes wide, he answered, "M-mom! H-how are you?"

"Agent Hotchner tells me he was expecting to find you here. What are you really doing, young man?"

"Mom, I-I'm really sorry. I'm trying to get to the bottom of Great-grandfather Nesbit's criminal charges. I think I can prove he didn't do it!" He hoped this news might soften his mother's tone a bit.

It didn't, "Spencer! Really! That was over years ago. No one even cares any more, and it is certainly no reason to cause all this worry and panic."

The young man's heart fell. It had been his mother who had turned him on to this mystery in the first place. How could she not care about what he had found out?

Hotch's voice jolted him out of his pout, "Spencer?"

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Tell me where you are," he demanded.

Defeated, Reid whispered, "New York City."

"Why are you there?"

"I-I had to do some research – on my great-grandfather."

"The one who was charged with colluding with the mob? Alone? Spencer! You know better than that. Do I have to remind you of the trouble that caused just a couple of weeks ago?"

"B-but Hotch, I'm not breaking into any banks or anything! I'm just doing some research. Legal research."

"And just how much of this research were you planning to share with Agent Milner as you agreed to?" The silence he heard from the other end, told Hotch everything he needed to know, "I will be there in four hours. I expect you to meet me at the airport with your bags. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." He knew he was in a lot of trouble, so he quickly added, "Hotch, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me."

"Spencer, we will talk about this in great detail when I get there."

As Hotch hung up, Reid sighed, "yeah, he's mad." Looking at his watch, he realized he still had time to get to the museum before Hotch got there. He quickly apologized to June for having to run out, and then made his way to his destination.

XOXOXOXO

On the jet Hotch rubbed his temples. He couldn't believe Reid was only just off his restriction and already getting himself into trouble again. Thinking about Agent Milner and the 'off' feeling he got from the man, he couldn't blame Reid for wanting to keep his information to himself. But as long as this continued to be an open F.B.I. case, Reid needed to either share what he found, or stay out of the situation all together.

He had only been in flight for 35 minutes before his cell rang.

XOXOXOXO

In Garcia's darkened cavern of informational wonders another alarm began to flash. Seeing the problem, she immediately picked up the phone to call Hotch.

"Boss man! Do you remember when you asked me to flag any sudden or odd movement by Agent Milner?"

"Yes." His brow furrowed. Was this a coincidence? "What do you have Garcia?"

"It seems our determined agent has been suddenly called away to New York on a family emergency. The problem is, according to a little cross check, he doesn't have any family in the Big Apple. He just bought the ticket and should be landing in the city in about 40 minutes."

"Okay, thank you Garcia. Good work. Let me know right away if anything else comes up."

**XOXOXOXO**

**We're nearly done! Please review and let me know what you think so far.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Another big thank you to Maia2 who Betaed this for me, and also to all those who reviewed the last chapter. You are the lovely beans in my morning cup of coffee! :) **

**Don't own CM or WC, only wish I did.**

**Now, on with the story . . . **

**XOXOXOXO**

Reid was well on his way to the museum when he got the text message from Neal: "Got away from Peter. Meet me at Met in an hour?"

Reid messaged back: "Almost there now. 15 minutes. When can you be there?"

A few seconds later, Neal responded: "Race you. Meet on front steps."

Reid smiled to himself glad that he would not have to search the entire museum alone. Reaching his stop, he climbed the stairs from the subway back up to the street and walked the short distance to the museum. Scanning the front of the building for Neal, he did not find his friend. The museum wasn't particularly busy today, but even on slow days the area was crowded with sightseers. Slowly ascending the stairs, he continued looking. Realizing he may have arrived first, he rested at the base of one of the massive columns. With his limited time, he was anxious to get moving, but even if he had to wait thirty more minutes for Neal it would most likely still be faster to do so.

He had been there less than a minute when he felt something hit the top of his head. He reached up afraid it might have been an overhead pigeon. Thankfully, there was nothing there. He looked up searching for what might have caused the sensation. Again, he found nothing. Shrugging it off, he went back to worrying about what Hotch was going to do to him when he got here. A couple of seconds later Reid felt something hit the top of his head again, but this time he saw a small white ball bounce to the ground. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a popcorn kernel. It only took him a moment to understand what was going on. Irritated, he stood up, and cried, "Neal. Come on man! Can we get a move on?"

Smoothly gliding out from behind a column, munching on a bag of popcorn, he said, "Whoa! What's the matter? Why the rush? We have plenty of time. Peter won't know I'm missing for hours yet, and with any luck, he'll never find out."

Watching his friend hop down from the huge column base, Reid anxiously answered, "Hotch knows." At Neal's startled expression, he continued, "He's on his way here. I need to get some answers before he lands."

Nodding his head and turning serious, Neal sympathetically patted his friend's arm and led the way into the museum. They wound their way through endless corridors and different display halls. Neal seemed to know exactly where he was going. He would gaze at particularly intriguing paintings and sculptures in passing, but never once slowed his pace. Reid, trusting his friend, followed silently at his heels not paying the least bit of attention to the wonders around him.

Reid had lost track of how long they had been walking by the time Neal veered into a dimly lit room that seemed to have only one door in or out. He led Reid to an illuminated glass case in the far corner of the room.

Before he was close enough to clearly see the contents, the younger man read the plaque above, "Donated August 1958. Believed to be part of Janet Scudder's private collection." Reid was confused, but the jewelry inside the case certainly looked like those in his great-grandfather's file. "Who is this Janet Scudder?"

Neal answered, "She's the reason this collection always stood out to me. If you knew anything about her, it would seem out of place to you too. She was a down-to-earth sculptor. These," he indicated the contents of the case, "are way too fancy for her tastes."

"So, what are you thinking?" Reid asked, "A simple mistake by the museum?"

"Or whoever donated these gave them that story and no one ever bothered to question it." Neal postulated.

Studying the jewels again, Reid considered this, "How do you think they got here all the way from Nevada?"

Reid answered his own question at the same time as Neal, "Milner's grandfather!"

The young men quickly pulled together what information they had into a theory.

"He must've had them all along."

"When he returned to New York, he brought them with him."

"They were payment for turning on my great-grandfather."

"Reid, Milner may have even been the killer."

"But why would he turn them over to the museum?"

They were throwing ideas back and forth so quickly, neither noticed the nearly silent agent enter the room, "That was your grandfather's doing."

The young men reflexively jumped at the new voice. Turning, they were startled to find Agent Milner discretely holding a gun on them. There was no one else in the room, so Reid wondered why he was hiding the gun. He also internally cringed thinking about what Morgan would say if he knew his little brother found himself in a situation like this minus his own sidearm.

As they slowly raised their hands in the classic "I give up" fashion, Milner barked, "put your hands down and face each other!"

The young men moved to comply, but Reid's curiosity got the better of him, "What do you mean, it was my grandfather's doing, Agent Milner?" It felt strange to look at Neal while asking Milner the question.

Gruffly, he answered, "My father worked all his life to keep his father's name clean. Your grandfather was obsessed with clearing his own father's name. He got close enough to the truth that my mother brought the prince's jewels here and created this display herself. Since they were the only thing connecting our family to – the events, this was the best way to keep them safely within our reach."

Neal hated to ask the burning question because the answer couldn't possibly be good, but he had to. Still facing Reid, he said, "That's a lot of information, Milner. Why are you telling us all this? Aren't you afraid we'll let the authorities know?"

Reid had surreptitiously swept the room as Milner talked. He realized why the Agent stayed so near the door; it was the only location not covered by video cameras.

Milner gave a malicious laugh before answering Neal, "That is not going to happen, Mr. Caffrey." He smirked at Neal's look of surprise when he used the young man's name. "Now, let's get busy, shall we? Step over here, Mr. Caffrey. Agent Reid, go to the display box, take off your jacket and do not look at me." As both men slowly moved to comply, he continued giving out orders. To Neal he said, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back!" He clapped handcuffs on him and pushed him to the floor. This complete, he told Reid to wrap the jacket around his right fist. As the young man complied, he ordered, "Break the glass."

Forgetting himself, he looked across the room at Milner. The older agent leveled the gun at Neal's head in warning and Reid looked back at the box. Nervously, he asked, "But won't that set off the alarms?"

Milner saw the slight shake of Neal's head and ordered, "Tell him, Mr. Caffrey!"

Bravely looking Milner in the eye, he said, "The security system in this room is ancient because no one really cares about these collections." With disgust, he finished, "They're nearly forgotten. I would guess Agent Milner, with his familial connections to the museum knew just how to disarm the system."

Taking in this new information, Reid prepared himself for contact with the glass. He pulled back his fist, took a deep breath, and just before he released the recoil another question occurred to him, "But then why didn't you disable the cameras too?"

Exasperated, Milner said, "Do you always ask so many questions, Agent Reid?"

Quietly, Neal explained, "He's going to implicate you in the theft, Reid. You're the only one on camera, and they don't have a sound system, so it's going to look like you're working alone."

"Not exactly alone, Mr. Caffrey. You are working as look-out at the moment." Milner was becoming anxious to get this over with. Though few guests visited this room, there was always the chance that one might stray in at any moment, "Agent Reid, this is the last time I'm going to ask you. Break the glass now!"

Sighing in resignation, the young man again readied himself for the blow, took aim and just before his fist flew through the relatively thin glass, he tightly clamped his eyes shut.

Hearing the glass shatter, Reid slowly opened one eye and then the other inspecting his handiwork. He listened for alarms, but heard none.

What he did hear was Milner's voice ordering, "Collect the jewels, Agent Reid, and bring them over here."

Trying to think of any possible way out of this, Reid moved to obey as slowly as he dared. He hoped Neal was coming up with something because he was at a complete loss.

When he reached Agent Milner, the older agent produced a black cloth bag. "Drop them in here."

Reid did as he was told then waited meekly as Milner tied up the bag and gave his next order, "Help Mr. Caffrey to his feet and give me both of your cell phones." Once confiscated he shut them off and continued, "We're going for a little walk, and if you're good no one will get hurt. Now, outside this door, turn left, walk normally and do not try to talk to anyone."

The two young men gave each other a helpless shrug and did as they were told. Milner stayed behind Neal to hide his still cuffed hands. They passed very few people, and none took any notice of the trio. Before too long, Milner guided them toward an enclosed and deserted stairwell. He handed a key to Reid and told him to open the door. Milner followed them down two stories into a subbasement.

They bypassed several doors and hallways until they reached a seemingly unmarked door. Apparently, the key that Reid still had opened this door as well. Once the door was open, Milner roughly shoved both men inside. They turned worried looks on the older man, who responded, "Oh, don't worry. I'll be back to let you out, just as soon as I get these," indicating the black bag, "someplace safe." With another unpleasant laugh, he slammed the door shut and quickly turned the key to lock them inside.

Frantically feeling around for a light switch, Reid called out, "Are you okay?"

From the dark Neal answered, "Yeah, I'm okay. Just find a light, man."

"I'm trying, I'm tr –," Just then he flipped on the switch. A single dim bulb with no covering flickered reluctantly to life. Both men scanned the room for a possible means of escape. No windows graced the tiny space crammed nearly to capacity with old, dusty and broken furniture. There was a tiny vent high up on the wall, but even if they could coax the covering off, there was no way Neal, with his hands still cuffed together behind his back, would be able to negotiate that exit. Besides, they would need tools to get into the vent anyway. In frustration they each flopped down on the least broken furniture they could find and sent up a puff of dust in the process.

Looking at his watch, Reid realized Hotch would be landing in about an hour. He didn't think he would be making it to the airport on time now. At least, he thought with a grimace, he had the answers he had been looking for.

Neal considered cutting his anklet as a way to signal for help, but raising his pant leg he found that the light was off which meant it was no longer sending any signal at all. They must be too far underground for it to be effective any longer. As an intriguing a finding as this was, he leaned his head back and exhaled. Peter was going to kill him!

XOXOXOXO

Upon landing Hotch walked to the terminal expecting to find his errant young agent waiting for him. Not finding him, he didn't wait even a moment before taking out his cell and dialing Reid's number. Hotch was surprised when it went directly to voicemail. The message he left was stern, "Spencer. I've landed and I expected you to be here. You had better have a good reason as to why you are not." And he clicked off.

The senior agent found a seat in the terminal and waited 15 minutes before trying to reach Reid again. He became concerned when he was again sent directly to voicemail. He did not leave a message this time. He decided to check in with his team quickly before taking further action. Knowing Emily would be the least likely to read something wrong in Hotch's voice, he called her.

Once he was brought up to speed on the process of the case, and told her he was going to be delayed in his return, she asked, "Is everything okay, Hotch?"

He allowed himself a small grin knowing he should never try to put anything over on any member of his team, "Everything's fine. I'll be there as soon as I can." He clicked off his phone before she could question him further.

He tried Reid's cell one more time with the same results. On a hunch he found Peter Burke's card and dialed his number.

"White Collar Crimes – Agent Burke," He answered.

Without preamble, Hotch launched into, "Peter, this is Aaron Hotchner. I'm looking for Spencer. Have you seen him?"

Confused, Peter said, "Aaron. No, I haven't seen him. Is there some reason I should have?"

Forcing himself to slow down, Hotch answered, "He's been here since Monday morning, but I only just found out myself. He was here investigating his great-grandfather's death."

Thinking about what he had found in Neal's apartment, Peter suspected his ward may have something to do with this as well. He quickly pulled up Neal's tracking information while he talked, "Like I said, I haven't seen him, but it's possible I know someone who has. I sent Neal home early today, so if he's -," he paused as he took in the information on his computer screen, "Looks like he took a detour on his way home. Can you meet me at the Met?"

Already on the move, Hotch answered, "I'll be there in ½ hour."

"I'll meet you there then." Peter hung up still fixated on the computer screen. Though Neal's data was clear up until an hour ago, the red dot that normally showed where he was at that moment was nowhere to be found. Stepping out on the catwalk, he called, "Dianna. Jones." Both agents hurried up the steps and followed Peter into his office. He showed them the tracking data while he filled them in on what little he knew. He hoped he wouldn't need their backup, but he wanted them there if he did.

XOXOXOXO

Reid sighed as he searched around one more time. They had been left alone in this tiny room for over an hour with no idea when they might be released. Neal was not blaming Reid at all for the situation they were in, but the younger man couldn't help but feel guilty for it all. If Milner got away with his plan, Reid would most likely get a reduced sentence, but Neal was doomed to a very long stint in prison no matter what. He had to figure out how to get them out of this.

"Come on, Reid. Agent Hotchner would never believe you had anything to do with this." Neal was trying to make the nervous young man calm down, but his words simply caused more anxiety.

"Maybe, but what about you? Will Agent Burke defend you so easily?" The look of uncertainty that crossed Neal's face and drooping shoulders made Reid feel sad for his friend. He reaffirmed his conviction to find them a way out of this mess.

XOXOXOXO

Burke's team arrived before Hotch. They found local police and museum security scurrying about outside and running in and out of the building. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he ordered his junior agents, "find out what's going on."

They were gone only a few minutes when Peter spotted Hotch running up the steps to the building. Shaking his hand, Peter said, "Aaron, It's good to see you. I sent my agents in to find out what is going on here." He led the way into the building and quickly found Dianna and Jones standing off to the side intently watching a monitor at the security desk.

Approaching them, Dianna indicated that the senior agents should come around the desk to see the video too. "You're not going to believe this, boss." She moved aside to let them have a better look.

Pointing at the small grainy images, Jones said, "That's Neal, but I don't recognize the other guy."

Grimly, Hotch answered, "It's Reid."

Dianna and Jones were confused, but Peter seemed to understand. "Who's 'Reid'?" Jones inquired.

"He's an agent with the BAU in DC." Peter answered. And then, remembering his manners, he introduced, "This is Agent Hotchner. Reid's boss." Entranced by the video, he let Dianna and Jones introduce themselves to the new agent in their midst.

Continuing to view the video, both senior agents were shocked to watch the mild Agent Reid smash open a glass case and remove the contents. Hotch clicked the button to re-watch the scene more carefully. "It looks like he's talking to someone. Is there video from another angle?" He asked the attending security guard.

"Not in this room, sir. But we do have some video of the halls outside this room." He pressed a few buttons to show the video they had of three men walking into a locked stairwell. Reid and Neal were obvious, but no one was able to make out the face of the third man. He was wearing a brimmed hat and being very careful to avoid the cameras.

"Where do these stairs go?" Peter demanded.

Nervously, the security guard answered, "These stairs access every floor in the building, including the basement and two subbasements."

"Are they being searched?" Hotch's question was more gentle, but no less urgent.

"Yes, sir. But we've only just begun the search. The alarm on the display case had been disabled, so we really only just found out about the theft."

Hotch clenched his jaw to keep from barking at the security guard. The young man had no way of knowing that this was not what it looked like. Instead, he asked, "Peter, do you know where these stairs are?"

He was already two steps ahead of Hotch, "This way." All four agents ran through the massive halls together.

XOXOXOXO

The click of the lock brought both young men to attention. They stood to face whatever was coming their way.

Milner opened the door already holding the gun on his captives, "You two are going to have a fight ahead of you." He chuckled to himself, "Your little theft has the entire museum on alert, the police are surrounding the building, and I even heard a rumor that they've brought in the F.B.I." He chuckled again, "Let's go boys."

He stepped aside to allow them to exit the room. As they slowly walked through the seemingly endless maze of hallways, Reid asked, "So, this is your plan? Kick us back into the museum as a distraction while you get away?"

"You got it genius. By the time they get everything straightened out, if they get it straightened out, I'll be long gone with my jewels."

"How far do you think you're really going to get, Milner?" Neal was trying to goad him into giving away more information.

"Far enough." The experienced FBI agent wasn't about to fall for such an immature trick, "Now shut up and walk!"

"What about these cuffs? Are you going to make me wear them after you let us go?"

Milner had actually forgotten the kid was still wearing them. He let them walk in silence a bit longer before he ordered, "stop." He took his keys out and said, "back up, kid."

As Neal backed up, Reid caught a glimpse of movement from around the corner. He stood very still trying to make sense of what he was seeing without bringing attention to it. Behind him, he could hear Neal's cuffs being removed.

Milner gave Neal a little shove forward and said, "Okay, get a move on."

Neal didn't miss the stiff way Reid was standing with his back to them. He approached very slowly trying to decipher what he was seeing.

As his friend approached, Reid turned in ever so slightly and whispered, "Get down."

On alert, Neal turned startled eyes up to Reid's face. Knowing he'd gotten his friend's attention enough, Reid moved quickly. He threw an arm around Neal's shoulders and leaned his weight into him as he fell to the floor and yelled, "Get down!" Neal didn't question him at all and hit the floor as fast as he could.

In that same second Peter and Hotch turned the corner, guns drawn. "Drop your weapon, Milner!" Hotch ordered.

Milner froze in shock for only a moment before he knew it was all over for him. He relaxed his stance, bent to lay his gun on the floor and automatically put his hands behind his head. As Hotch moved in to retrieve the discarded weapon, Peter roughly shoved Milner against the wall and cuffed his hands behind his back.

Neal sat up and watched the cuffing with satisfaction.

His prisoner secured, Peter looked down at his ward and demanded, "What are you grinning about, young man?" As Neal's smile faded, Peter ordered, "Get up off that floor." He then called in Dianna and Jones to take Milner into custody.

As the young men stood and brushed the dust off their clothes, Hotch sincerely asked, "Are you two okay?"

They were clearly embarrassed, but Reid managed to answer, "Yeah, Hotch, we're fine." Then, recovering slightly, he said, "Milner has the prince's jewels, but we don't know where he took them. He made me break open the case and take them."

The senior agents had already put all this together for themselves. Hotch clapped his wayward agent on the arm and comforted, "We know. We'll get this all straightened out in no time."

Peter handed Milner over to his junior agents instructing them to get a search warrant for his home to find the jewels.

As they watched the trio walk away, the senior agents somberly turned to face their boys. Neal gulped and schooled his face into a serious mask. Reid bit his lower lip and kept his eyes on the floor in front of Hotch. "Let's go get this mess cleaned up," Peter directed.

Hotch and Peter gave their wards encouraging pushes forward and followed them up the stairs to the main floor and into the security office.

**XOXOXOXO**

**Hmmm . . . wonder what's going to happen next. LOL! **

**Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Now, please hit the little review button and let me know what you're thinking. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this took so long. My internship (and still working almost full-time) is proving to be a bit much, but I still find a little time for writing. It's how I relax. Once again, thank you to Maia2 who Betaed this for me, and also to all those who reviewed the last chapter!**

**Don't own CM or WC, only wish I did.**

**Now, the final chapter . . .**

**XOXOXOXO**

It had been a long afternoon of frantic explanations, Peter's angry admonishments, and Hotch's furious glares. By the time they were allowed to leave the museum security office, both young men were exhausted.

Initially, Neal had attempted to maintain an innocent demeanor, but under the pressure of Peter's incessant pacing he had quickly dissolved into unaccustomed squirming. If they had been alone together, Neal was certain he would have embarrassed himself by begging his guardian to stop marching.

Reid, however, in a moment of clarity came to the realization that he had known all along that Hotch would find out. He admitted to himself he never would have guessed how his boss would find out, but in the end he always did. Though he was acutely aware that Hotch was going to have his hide, the young man spent his time in the security office far more worried about Neal. Last time, Hotch had actually threatened Neal with prison if he was ever involved with getting Reid in trouble again.

After the two senior agents helped Reid and Neal fill in the information gaps for Museum Security, the guards left the four alone in the office while they went to confer with the local police.

Peter ceased his pacing and stopped directly in front of Neal who, try as he might, could not make eye contact with the older man. He glared down at the seated young conman and waited for the inevitable excuses to begin. Neal, knowing how much trouble he was in, tried desperately to think of anything that might reduce Peter's ire. Though he thought of many tactics he might try on others, Peter wouldn't fall for any of them. In fact, Neal thought, most of his ideas would probably piss Peter off even more. He ended up simply studying the safety posters on the office walls with feigned interest.

At the same time Hotch, arms crossed, leaned against the wall just within Reid's peripheral vision. He leveled a steely stare on his subordinate and tried to calm down enough to talk. Reid sat nervously biting his lip and trying to read Hotch's face out of the corner of his eye. He knew he needed to protect Neal if he could.

Everyone in the room was shocked when Reid was the first to speak. The young man determinedly stood, faced Hotch, and confessed, "This was all my fault, Hotch. Everything! All of it! Neal wouldn't even be here if I hadn't begged him to help me. He didn't want to, but –"

Hotch raised a hand to cut him off, "I'm not –"

"—Hotch, you can't send him back to prison for something I did!" Reid barreled through, "It's not fair! –"

"Spencer!" Hotch spoke quietly, but the word was sharp. Reid felt like he had just been slapped, but it had the desired effect of making him stop talking. Calmly, Hotch pushed himself off the wall, stood directly in front of his wayward agent and reassured, "I'm not sending Neal back to prison." He didn't miss the relieved look from both young men, "His only illegal action was to be out of his restricted area without a sanctioned escort. That is Agent Burke's problem to deal with as he sees fit."

Neal flicked nervous eyes up to his keeper. Peter returned the look with pursed lips and a hard stare. The younger man tried to maintain eye contact but ultimately dropped his gaze to the floor.

Hotch continued, "You are my only concern this time, Spencer, and we _will_ deal with all of this before we rendezvous with the team."

Reid swallowed hard at this last bit of news, but remembering his manners he gathered his courage and whispered, "Yes, sir. – Thank you."

Feeling Peter give him a nudge, Neal also uttered a sincere, "thank you, sir," to Hotch.

The head-of-security entered at that moment and told the men they were free to go. The senior agents reached across the desk to shake his hand. Hotch clapped Reid on the shoulder to indicate it was time to leave, and walked out the door. Peter, however, hauled Neal to his feet and guided the young man out the door keeping a hand on his upper arm. Reid trailed the group out, hands buried deep in his pockets.

XOXOXOXO

At June's house the young men were busy gathering their things. Neal had been promised another week of restriction at Peter's house, and Reid only needed to collect his already packed bags and say goodbye to his hostess. Peter and Hotch waited for their wards in Neal's living room.

One floor down Reid opened the bedroom door to find June sitting on the bed holding the letter he had planned to send to his mother that night. The young man couldn't believe he had just left it sitting out on the bed for anyone to read. Seeing the older woman's angry face, he gulped and waited to hear what she had to say.

XOXOXOXO

"I'm sorry Neal keeps helping your agent find trouble, Aaron" Peter sincerely apologized, "Problems seem to follow him."

Hotch smiled warmly, "Believe me, Peter, Reid is perfectly capable of finding his own trouble. In fact I believe I should be the one apologizing. This was clearly more his doing than Neal's. I should have known something was up when he suddenly wanted to spend time with his mother."

Peter chuckled lightly, "I guess we're even then."

Through his own quiet chuckle, Hotch asked, "How are you planning to deal with your trouble magnet?"

"Oh, same way you are, I suppose. That paddle you sent is going to get another workout tonight."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up, "another?" He was surprised it had already been employed.

"I told you trouble follows the kid. I'm trying to make him understand he can prevent most of it himself."

Contemplatively, Hotch commented, "I hope he appreciates everything you're doing for him."

Looking over his shoulder to make sure Neal hadn't returned, he confided, "He's worth it."

From the hallway outside Neal's apartment, the senior agents turned at the sound of an angry June berating someone. Curious, Peter opened the door to find her wagging a finger in Reid's face, "You're a fine young man, and you could be a good friend for my Neal, but if I ever hear you plan to carry out a hair-brained plan like that with him again, I'll turn you over my knee myself! Do you understand me?"

Reid flinched at each sharp word, "Y-yes, ma'am."

Hotch noted his wide frightened eyes, and decided he had better step in, "Reid? What's going on here?"

The young man didn't even try to make eye contact, but simply looked at his feet and chewed his lip.

June grasped his arm, spun him to face the open door and gave him an encouraging shove, "Go on. Tell them what you had planned."

"Reid?" It was both a question and a warning to start talking from Hotch.

Burying his hands in his pockets, the young man looked up guiltily through his eyelashes at the older agents, "I – uhh – that is, we didn't do anything."

Sensing the tension emanating from his living room, Neal silently went to see what was happening. Trying to remain invisible, he stood just outside his bedroom door and listened to Reid unveil his secret plan.

"After we figured out Milner was involved, I did some research in the FBI file room." He gave Peter an apologetic glance knowing the senior agent would be upset that this all happened right under his nose. "Once I'd figured out that he was hiding information that would clear my great-grandfather, I realized I had to trick him into confessing somehow. And then Neal thought he knew where the treasure was, so I decided once I saw it for myself I could confront Milner with the evidence in the very place he had been hiding it."

"And what was Neal's part supposed to be in all of this?" Hotch was deadly serious.

Reid swallowed hard before answering, "I hoped he would hide in the shadows and record Milner's confession." The young agent thought it would be impossible for his boss' face to harden any more than it was already. It wasn't.

"Why record it, young man?" Hotch already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear him say it.

Reid was already in enough trouble. He really didn't want to admit to this, but there was no avoiding the direct question. His voice barely above a whisper, he said, "in case something went wrong, I wanted to have the video as evidence." He studied his feet and chewed at his lip waiting for Hotch to lower the boom.

Turning to Neal (who thought he had gone undetected), Peter angrily demanded, "Did you know about this?"

Neal was just as surprised by the news as Peter, but he didn't know what he could possibly say that would convince the older man of this. He opened his mouth to attempt an answer, but was cut off.

"He didn't know! I-I never told him," Reid insisted, "I was trying to figure out another way to do it without his involvement."

Hotch was furious, "Of all the asinine . . .! If you had tried . . . !"

Reid cringed. It was difficult to get Hotch this angry, but he had managed. The young man knew he was as good as dead now.

Across the room, Neal felt sorry for his friend. Thinking he might be able to help a little, he put on his best charming smile and crossed the room with a relaxed swagger, "I'm sure nothing would have –"

"Neal." With that one word, Peter's warning to shut up was clear. Neal shut up.

A tense silence filled the room as Hotch glared at his wayward young agent. For his part Reid fidgeted and tried to figure out what he could do to make things better. Nothing came to mind before Hotch growled, "Wait for me in the car."

At the intense sound in his boss' voice, Reid's eyes shot up to Hotch's. The somber glare he received from the older man told him all he needed to know. He reluctantly nodded his head and walked to the door. Before exiting, he turned back to the room. Finding Neal worriedly looking at him, he offered a small smile and said, "Bye, Neal. I'm sorry I pulled you into this."

Neal returned with his own sad smile, "Don't worry about it, man. If it hadn't been you, I would've found my own trouble." Peter glared at his young CI who, upon noticing the glare, lost his self-assured affect entirely.

As Reid slouched out the door, Hotch turned to Peter and shook his hand, "Thank you, Peter. Let's hope the next time we meet, these two won't be involved in something they shouldn't be."

Despite the solemn atmosphere, Peter chuckled good-naturedly as he returned the handshake, "That seems unlikely, but we can certainly hope."

Hotch grinned, and then schooled his features to convey seriousness before turning to the young man standing behind Peter, "Neal." There was nothing more he needed to say that Peter wouldn't be saying to him later. He turned to June, warmly took her hand, and said, "Thank you for taking care of my agent, June. I hope we meet under better circumstances next time."

Smiling up at the younger man, June sincerely responded, "As do I, Agent Hotchner. You are both welcome here any time."

Without a second look back, Hotch walked out of the apartment and down to the waiting car.

XOXOXOXO

Once on the jet Hotch allowed Reid to stow his bags before grasping the young man's arm and firmly guiding him to a lone seat facing the bulkhead. Reid understood immediately that this was Hotch's way of putting him in the corner. Not wanting to stir Hotch's anger further, he immediately took his seat, buckled in and hopefully looked up at his boss. Hotch was still livid. Reid dropped his eyes to his lap as Hotch went to sit a few seats behind him.

XOXOXOXO

Neal sighed heavily. The corner wasn't offering him much entertainment. Peter had even banished Satchmo to the backyard as the dog was giving the young man too much attention. He could hear Peter and Elizabeth talking in the kitchen. Though he couldn't catch their words, from her intonation, Neal was hopeful Elizabeth was arguing his side.

Again Neal heavily sighed and leaned his forehead against the wall. He quickly came to attention when, from behind him, Peter said, "Stop being such a drama queen, Neal. You've only been there for ten minutes."

When the young man half-turned to give his keeper a dirty look, he was surprised to find Elizabeth there too. She was trying hard to stifle a grin. He watched her with hopeful eyes as she approached him. Gently, she gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder, and whispered, "When will you start deciding to trust Peter, Neal? If you'd asked for his help in the first place, you wouldn't be in this kind of trouble now."

Neal returned his attention to the wall as Elizabeth left his side and climbed the stairs to leave the two men alone. He felt Peter's eyes on his back and tried not to squirm.

He was in the middle of reminding himself to relax when Peter ordered, "Come here, Neal."

The young man turned not knowing exactly what to expect, but having a fairly good idea. Peter indicated that he should take a seat on the couch. Neal walked as slowly as he possibly could, but found himself facing his accuser much too soon. He sat and clasped his hands together to keep them from fidgeting.

Peter sat beside Neal. He turned to face the younger man who refused to make eye contact. The kid was scared, and Peter hated that this was necessary. He was tempted to send Neal to bed and just forget this whole thing ever happened. But if Peter did, he knew the young man would have a hard time trusting him to be there when he needed him in the future. Mentally taking a deep breath, he began, "Neal, you lied to me."

Neal swallowed and wiped his sweaty hands on his trouser legs. Rallying his courage, he murmured to the floor, "I know, Peter. I'm sorry."

Peter sighed. He had expected more of a fight. Seeing the kid this resigned to his punishment was disheartening. He wanted Neal to make better decisions, but he certainly didn't want to extinguish the fire in him. Again Peter reminded himself that this was about trust. He needed to trust Neal, and Neal needed to trust that Peter wasn't going to let him get away with dishonesty. The older man pressed forward, "I'm disappointed that you didn't come to me when you knew about Milner's involvement. I understand that Reid wanted to see those jewels for himself, but dammit Neal, you should have talked to me first."

Skeptically, Neal glanced at Peter, "Would you have let me go if you had known?"

"No, Neal, I wouldn't have," Peter was becoming irritated with his ward's drive for immediate gratification, "and I wouldn't have let Reid go alone either. I would have contacted Agent Hotchner, and we would have gone through the proper channels."

"But Reid only wanted to look at the jewels to make sure they were really the same ones his great-grandfather was framed for. We didn't know Milner was going to be there." An adolescent whine was slowly creeping into the reasonable tone Neal was trying to use.

Peter looked the young man square in his piercing blue eyes, "You are not being punished because Milner showed up. You are being punished because you lied to me about where you were going today, because you were outside of your restricted area and because you withheld information you knew you shouldn't. You're right. I most certainly would not have allowed you to wander around a museum without me. And as far as Reid is concerned, we were there when he promised to hand over any evidence he gathered regarding his great-grandfather. That did not mean 'when he got around to it', it meant immediately. You were both aware of that."

As each point was clearly laid out for him, Neal's eyes slowly turned apologetic. When Peter finished his litany, the young man could only respond with a sincere, "I'm sorry, Peter."

Taking in the boy's genuineness, Peter gruffly said, "Go to your room. I'll be up in a minute," before he could let himself give in to his desire to avoid this punishment.

Neal slowly rose and dejectedly shuffled his way up the staircase.

XOXOXOXO

As the jet taxied down the runway, rose into the sky and leveled out above the clouds Reid gnawed at his lower lip, played with his fingernails and shifted in his seat. He couldn't believe how much trouble he was in, and so soon after the last time. The young man just wished Hotch would get on with punishing him. He wondered if Hotch was going to make him wait until their current case was solved and they were back home. Or maybe he would only wait until they were checked into their hotel tonight. He closed his eyes and groaned at that possibility. What if someone heard? Thinking about what a person walking in the halls of that hotel might hear tonight made the young man squirm. He started to chew his fingernails. Why couldn't he just get on with it?

From behind him he heard a steely voice, "Spencer, stop biting your nails and come here."

No! It's too soon! Reid popped the finger he was working on out of his mouth, took in a deep breath and unbuckled his seatbelt. With effort, he stood and went to stand beside his boss. Hotch didn't look up from the case file he was studying. Reid nervously wrapped his long arms around his midsection and waited.

Hotch let the young man sweat for a few more seconds before, "I'm sure you know why you're being punished."

Reid wrapped his arms tighter about his body and gazed at the floor. Eventually, he was able to squeak out the obligatory "yes, sir."

"Good," Hotch plopped the file down on the seat beside him and stood, "Then let's take care of this now, before we land."

The young man felt tears spring forth, but he nodded his assent. Through the blur of his watery eyes, he followed his mentor to the long padded bench he could so often be found sleeping on during return flights.

Hotch was sorry he hadn't considered packing any casual clothing, not that he thought he would be needing them when he left DC yesterday. He regretted the necessity of taking care of this business on the jet as well. When he punished Reid, he believed it was beneficial to create as much of a separation between work and personal life as possible. But there was no telling how long it would take his team to work out their current case, and he certainly wasn't going to spank the kid in a hotel room or make him wait for an unknown number of days to take care of this. No, this was the only good solution.

He turned to his youngest agent and somberly said, "I'm disappointed in you, Spencer." He noted the tears that were beginning to roll down Reid's cheeks, but pressed on, "You know the drill."

Sniffling quietly, Reid stepped across the aisle, kicked off his shoes and removed his slacks. He deposited them in the seat closest to him. Last to go was his underwear. They were always the hardest to do away with. He took a shaky breath, quickly removed them and dropped them on to the seat.

Waiting for his errant agent to prepare himself, Hotch carefully draped his jacket over the back of one of the seats, rolled up his sleeves and sat in the middle of the bench. He made certain a pillow would be within Reid's reach once he was in position.

The young man never waited long to get himself in position over Hotch's lap after getting undressed. As vulnerable and exposed as he felt, he wanted to get this over with as soon as he possibly could.

Hotch adjusted them both to make sure Reid was as comfortable as possible before they got started. He then started the punishment the way he always did, with hard fast smacks that covered Reid's entire butt and upper thighs. This was a great way to get the boy's attention.

Reid always started out trying to be as still and quiet as possible, but by the time Hotch was finishing this first round, the young man was crying out, rocking from side to side and crossing and uncrossing his legs in an attempt to escape the blows. He had never before been so grateful that the pilot never opened his cabin door.

It was the next phase of the punishment that Reid dreaded the most. When Hotch started to lecture, he knew his composure would completely unravel. He was fairly certain Hotch didn't have the paddle on him at least. There was some relief in that, until –

The rain of smacks Hotch was delivering slowed slightly before abruptly stopping. Spencer, hugging the pillow tightly to his chest, tensed waiting for the lecture to begin. Instead, Hotch ordered, "Stand up, young man."

Reid knew he was in a lot of trouble. The punishment certainly couldn't be over already. Shakily, but with a steadying hand from Hotch, he stood and tried to keep from rubbing at the sting in his hindquarters. He wasn't entirely successful.

Hotch then stood beside his agent and almost gently explained, "I don't have the paddle, Spencer, so we're going to have to do this a different way."

Reid's eyes shot up from his mismatched socks when he heard Hotch removing his belt. He gave his boss his best pleading puppy dog eyes, though he knew it wouldn't change the outcome in the least.

Without clemency, the older man ordered, "Bend over. Hands on the seat." As Reid slowly moved into the dreaded position, Hotch folded the belt over, held the buckle in his hand to keep it from doing any damage, laid his right hand on Reid's lower back, and took his aim.

Hotch let the belt punctuate his reprimand, "Spencer, you were fully aware of the expectations I had surrounding your great-grandfather's case."

Reid knew he would cry – he always did when the lecture started – but this time the tears started almost immediately. The young man was devastated that he had so badly disappointed the man he had come to think of as a father.

Hotch noticed that the boy was already starting to whimper. It was unusual for him to respond so strongly so soon, but he had more points to cover, so he went on, "Milner may have ended up being the villain in all of this, but that does not reconcile the fact that you were sneaking around, lying to me at every turn, involving Neal in something that could have had a very dangerous outcome, and making plans to confront Milner alone." Reid's cries had escalated into wracking sobs by this point and he was barely fighting the belt's onslaught at all anymore. It broke Hotch's heart to keep going, but he knew he had to. Bringing the belt down hard again, he continued, "You were very lucky not to have gotten yourself and Neal killed, young man. You had no weapon, no back-up other than a rehabilitating ex-con, and none of the team knew where you really were."

The last point brought all of Hotch's anger and fears back to the surface. Recognizing this, he stopped the punishment immediately. Dropping the belt on the bench, Hotch gently rubbed Reid's back indicating it was all over.

Through the haze of his sobs and guilt, Reid realized the lecture and smacking belt had stopped. He felt his knees go weak, but before he could fall, Hotch had his arm around him and was helping the crying young man to stand. Once upright, Reid dissolved into his mentor's chest in a pool of tears and renewed sobs.

Hotch, still feeling his fears for the wellbeing of this young man, wrapped protective arms around him and reminded himself that the kid was safe now. As he worked at calming both of them down, he soothed, "It's all over kiddo. You're going to be fine." With Reid still latched on to him, Hotch was able to re-seat himself on the bench. The younger man automatically curled his legs up on the seat and leaned into his guardian.

As he listened to the young man's sobs reduce to whimpers and finally down to ragged breathing and the occasional hiccup, Hotch gently stated, "When I didn't know where you were, I was frightened, Spencer. And when I heard your plan for catching Milner on your own – without the team's help or knowledge -," Again, Hotch could feel the fear rise in him. He took a deep breath to regain his calm, "Spencer, promise me you will never try anything like this again. I need to know that you will come to me if there is any chance of this kind of danger."

Reid felt incredible guilt for putting Hotch through all of this. He knew if he had simply talked with the older man about his plans, Hotch would have found a way to both support and protect him. Through a shaky breath he said, "I'm s-sorry, Hotch. I should have been honest with you. I promise I'll never take on a potentially dangerous investigation without your knowledge again."

Hotch knew the kid meant it, but he also knew that he would have to keep an eye on Reid when his emotions became too overwhelming. These were the times he was most likely to take the greatest risks. Beyond solving the mystery, protecting his mother from harm had been Reid's driving motivation in this. The older agent would be watching more closely in the future.

As Reid seemed far calmer now, Hotch gave his arm a pat and directed, "Get yourself cleaned up. We land in twenty minutes." As the young man automatically did as he was told, Hotch realized Reid was in no shape to be in the field at the moment. He decided they would check into the hotel before meeting up with the team. He hoped he could convince the kid to take a quick nap before they had to delve fully into the new case.

XOXOXOXO

Peter opened Neal's bedroom door to find the young conman sitting propped up against the headboard, knees drawn up, and pillow hugged tightly to his chest. Peter thought he looked like a frightened child.

Sighing quietly, the older man closed the door and walked over to stand next to Neal who hadn't moved a muscle. He sat next to the kid and simply asked, "What has you so spooked, Neal?"

The distraught young man who never confessed to anything decided it was time to be as honest as he possibly could. Without taking his eyes off of the blanket in front of him, he started, "What if I can't ever be good enough?"

Peter was confused, "I don't think I understand the question. Good enough for what?"

Desperately, he tried again, "Peter, I'd only just gotten off of restriction. Now I'm back again and about to get my butt blistered. It didn't take any effort for me to get here either. Maybe this is just who I am, and maybe I can't be anyone different. What if you have to keep punishing me?"

"Neal, you know what behavior I expect from you. When you're ready to play within those boundaries, you will earn your privileges back. That's how it works. And it's how good kids are produced."

The odd phrasing caught Neal's attention. He made eye contact for the first time, and asked, "So, you're raising me now?"

Peter noted the seriousness in the question, and answered just as seriously, "Since you got this," he tapped the anklet, "that has been my job."

Neal dropped his eyes to the blanket again. He was miserable. Peter had been trying all along to make him into a good person, and all Neal did was disappoint him. He wondered how much longer Peter would put up with him before he gave up all together.

Seeing the dejected look on the young man's face, Peter grasped his chin and turned Neal's face up to meet his, "You are learning, Neal. You've always been a good kid, I'm simply helping you with your impulse control is all." He smiled warmly at his 'son'.

Neal tried to return the smile, until he remembered, "Then why do I keep getting myself into trouble?"

The young man knew the answer already, so Peter asked, "What happens when you do something you shouldn't?"

"You used to just yell at me and then it was over, but now you spank me and take my freedom away." At the scowl he received, he relented, "Okay, okay. I still have most of my freedom – it's better than prison anyway."

Satisfied with that answer, Peter pressed, "That's what happens to you. What happens inside of you?"

Neal usually avoided thinking about his real feelings, but for Peter's sake he tried, "I – you make me feel guilty for the stupid stuff I do," he blurted out.

Aggravatingly, Peter was grinning from ear to ear, "Good! Guilt is a real motivator for appropriate behavior, and it's something I suspect you never experienced before. What happens to you after you've been spanked?"

Neal went silent and very still thinking about this question. Peter waited patiently for the bright young man to process it.

He could feel tears prickle at the back of his eyes as he realized the answer, "I-I feel . . .close . . . connected . . . safe -" It was barely a whisper as he trailed off.

Peter placed a hand on Neal's knee and clarified, "What you're feeling is love, Neal. That's what families feel for each other." The young man turned wide, questioning eyes up to his friend at the mention of 'family'. Peter finished, "Like it or not, that's what we are kiddo. You, me, El, Mozzie and even June. We all care about you and want you to grow up to become a happy, healthy, productive member of society."

Neal was still lost, "So, what does that have to do with me continually getting into trouble?"

Peter smiled and answered, "You're just seeing how far you can push the boundaries and making sure I'm not going to let you fall. Someday you'll trust that I'll always be there, and until you do I'll keep punishing you."

A glimmer of the old Neal returned as the young man rolled his eyes and responded, "Oh, great."

Peter chuckled as he stood up, "Feeling better?" The question was sincere and Neal nodded with a small smile in return, "Good, then let's get this over with. The game starts soon." He grinned at Neal good-naturedly who grimaced and slowly rose from the bed.

Peter took his seat again and waited for Neal to get ready. The young man always took great care to fold his clothing as he removed it. Peter realized that Neal was using this extra time to prepare himself mentally for what was about to happen.

Once he was sufficiently disrobed, Neal took his place beside Peter. Before he could stop himself, the ever-observant young man asked, "Where's the paddle?" He cringed inside realizing he'd probably just reminded Peter of the terrible instrument.

Peter grinned knowing the kid was berating himself for letting that out, "No paddle this time. You're grounded for a week for lying to me. I'm going to spank you for breaking the law by leaving your restricted area. I recognize that you were doing everything you did as a kindness for a friend. Nothing you did was to benefit you personally. That's a big step forward, Neal. Now we need to concentrate on that impulse control of yours." He pat his right knee to indicate the young man should get into position.

As much as he hated these spankings, Neal felt an overwhelming sense of security knowing Peter really did have his best interests at heart. He stretched himself over the older man's lap, buried his face in the pillow and took the spanking he knew he deserved. Peter didn't hold back at all, and by the end Neal was crying out and begging for it to stop.

When Peter felt Neal had learned his lesson, he finished with a sharp warning and a few punctuating smacks, "If you ever voluntarily step out of your restricted area again, I will use the paddle. Am I clear, young man?"

Though not fully crying, Neal answered through quiet sniffles, "Yes, Dad. Very clear."

Peter gave the back of Neal's head a sharp look. He couldn't tell if the kid had called him 'Dad' in a teasing manner or not. And then he smiled kindly realizing it didn't really matter. As Neal seemed relatively calm, he said, "Okay, get up and get dressed. I'm sure El will have dinner on soon."

Peter helped Neal to stand and watched to make sure he was okay. Other than some quiet sniffling, the young man acted fine. When he was satisfied, Peter stood to leave the room and give the kid some privacy. As he opened the door, he heard a quiet, "Peter?" He stopped and turned.

Neal didn't know exactly what he wanted to say, so he simply said, "Thank you." He crossed the room and fell into Peter's arms.

Peter was startled by the sudden weight, but welcomed him warmly into a loving hug.

**XOXOXOXO**

**Live life fully while you're here. Experience everything. Take care of yourself and your friends. Have fun, be crazy, be weird. Go out and screw up! You're going to anyway, so you might as well enjoy the process. Take the opportunity to learn from your mistakes: find the cause of your problem and eliminate it. Don't try to be perfect; just be an excellent example of being human.**

**ANTHONY ROBBINS**

**XOXOXOXO**

**Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think. And if you have other ideas of trouble these two might get into, please feel free to share.**

**The end.**


End file.
